


Twelve Tidings of Panem

by CallidoraMedea



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Best Friends, Brother-Sister Relationships, Children, Christmas, District 1 (Hunger Games), District 10 (Hunger Games), District 11 (Hunger Games), District 12 (Hunger Games), District 2 (Hunger Games), District 3 (Hunger Games), District 4 (Hunger Games), District 5 (Hunger Games), District 6 (Hunger Games), District 7 (Hunger Games), District 8 (Hunger Games), District 9 (Hunger Games), Family, Friendship, Holidays, Hunger Games Tributes, Hunger Games Victors, Mags - Freeform, Prequel, Rebellion, Rhymes, Sisters, Songs, War, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28283988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallidoraMedea/pseuds/CallidoraMedea
Summary: Before they were tributes, they were simply children, growing up in the Districts of Panem. Follow familiar characters from Phoenix Rising, The Most Dangerous Game, and More than Chance, as they celebrate their District's winter holidays, and find joy in the years before their Games.
Comments: 15
Kudos: 4





	1. The Meaning of Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for coming here, and Happy Holidays!  
> This is a collection of prequel stories for three of my existing Hunger Games stories. I hope you enjoy seeing familiar faces in happier times!  
> Let me know what you think!

** Silver Bellcreek, Age 10 **

**_ From Phoenix Rising _**

"Mum! It's snowing!"

"Is it now, dear?" Mum says absently. Glint's 'helping' her make toast by tossing it in the fire, which doesn't help at all!

"Don't let him burn the bread!" I say, turning away from the window full of fluffy snowflakes. "I don't like burned bread, Mum."

"He's doing his best, Silver," Mum says patiently. "He's only four. And your toast is on the table already."

"Oops!" I fairly skip over to the table and grab the still warm toast, shoving it into my mouth.

"Chew, Silver!" Mum says, but she's laughing anyway. "Alright my boy, you go and get your big sister up."

"I'll go!" Glint crows, running up the stairs.

"Shine's so lazy in the mornings," I say, rolling my eyes. She's seven, and would never get up if we didn't make her.

"She just needs more sleep. You two are up too late talking," Mum smiles, adjusting my blouse.

"It's not my fault we have too much to talk about!"

"Well, get your talking out early today!" Mum laughs again; I know she's not really mad at me. She can't be, not today!

"She's not getting up," Glint says, poking his head over the edge of the stairs.

"Shine! You're going to be late!" Mum calls up the stairs, before turning to me. "You go ahead and get your shoes on, Silver."

"Okay."

It takes a few minutes, but Shine finally makes her way downstairs with messy hair. While she eats her toast, Mum brushes her hair and braids it back to match mine. I'm just about out of patience when Shine finally pulls her shoes on. I want to go out in the snow!

"Alright girls, be good today," Mum says, giving us a kiss each. "I'll see you tonight."

"Bye Mum!" we chorus. I pull the door open so hard it flies out of my grasp, and Shine and I run out into the snowstorm.

"I love snow!" I shout as my sister and I slip and slide along the streets. A little bit down the road there're two Peacekeepers, but I'm not scared of them. Father always tells us that the Peacekeepers are here to help us- and most of them are nice! Like these ones; when Shine and I pass them, they both smile at us.

"Silver! Wait up!"

I grin when I see my best friend Flaire running towards me, snowflakes all over her hat and red hair. "It's snowing!" she shouts, twirling right in the middle of the street. I don't even have a chance to say anything before she slips and falls right in a snow pile.

"Flaire!" Glass Coramund groans, coming over to meet us. Glass is my other best friend. "Why'd you do that?"

"I didn't mean to!" Flaire says, pushing herself off of the ground and grabbing my outstretched hand.

"Quit fooling around! We're all going to be late!" Flaire's older sister Silk is _so_ bossy! We call her bossy boots behind her back. Silk glares at us, and I stick my tongue out at her behind her back. Flaire giggles.

"We better run! She's right!" Glass says with a worried look. She's teacher's pet, and never likes to be late.

Glass, Flaire, and I look at each and giggle again. "Race you!" Flaire says, and we take off running as fast as we can towards the school, Shine tagging along behind us and complaining the whole way.

"Now, who can tell me why we will light candles and hang socks over the fireplace tonight?" Ms. Riverworth asks, standing at the front of the yellow painted schoolroom. I love my school almost more than my room at home; it's so pretty!

I thrust my hand into the air as high as I can reach, waving back and forth a little bit. Ms. Riverworth smiles and says, "Yes, Silver?"

"It's because when North America became Panem, they kept the winter traditions from the old times!" I say proudly. I know because Father tells us every year. I'm glad they kept the traditions; I love lighting the candles and putting out a sock to be filled with little gifts.

"Exactly, Silver," Ms. Riverworth says, nodding at me. Flaire turns around in her seat ahead of mine and grins at me; I grin back. When I look over at Glass, she's focused completely on the teacher. Glass doesn't like to miss a thing!

"Traditions are important to carry through the ages," Ms. Riverworth continues. "I'm not going to give you any work to take home tonight."

She stops to let us cheer; hurray for no work tonight! When we go quiet again, she says, "I just want you to think about what the traditions mean to you. You don't have to tell anyone, or you can if you wish. Just stop and think about how the traditions affect you. Happy Yuletide, students; I'll see you in a week."

We all cheer again and leap out of our desks. Glass, Flaire, and I loop our arms together and awkwardly walk out of the schoolroom that way to wait for our sisters in the street outside.

"Let's make a snowman while we wait," Flaire says.

"The snow's perfect!" Glass exclaims, rolling the middle ball while Flaire and I work on the bottom snowball.

Glass and I have just put the second ball onto the base when Flaire asks, "What do the traditions mean to you?"

Glass takes a minute before thoughtfully saying, "I like how pretty the candles are. My mother buys red ones just to light this time of year, and I guess that's my favorite part. And getting the presents in the socks. That's really fun too."

"I like opening presents best," Flaire says, giggling. "I always put something gross into Silk's sock, and it's funny when she screams. Last year I found a dead spider in the house and put it in; she screamed so loud!"

Glass and I both laugh. It's so funny to think about Silk reaching in for a present and getting a spider! That's what bossy boots get!

"What about you, Silver?" Glass asks, and suddenly she and Flaire are looking at me. I scratch my neck; my scarf is itchy.

"I don't know. Guess I've never thought about it before."

Flaire shrugs. "That's okay."

I feel a little silly not knowing what the traditions mean to me when both Glass and Flaire do, so I just help finish the snowman until Silk and Shine come out of the schoolhouse. It's already getting dark, if you would believe it!

"Nice snowman!" Shine says, grabbing two rocks from the ground and putting them in the middle snowball to make buttons. The snowman's got a lopsided rock grin, two rock eyes, and a stick for a nose. "Where's his arms?"

Glass says, "He lost them! Somebody stole them."

"Who?"

"A goblin!" Flaire says, making a scary face at Shine. It's not very scary, though. Just silly.

Silk rolls her eyes. "Let's go, Flaire. I'm tired."

"You're always tired!" Flaire protests, but she follows after Silk anyway. "See you later Glass! Bye Silver! Bye Shine!"

"Bye!" Glass and I say together. Glass looks at me and asks, "Walk home together?"

"Sure."

There're a lot of people out on the road this time of day; everyone wants to get home for Yuletide. It's not snowing as hard as it was earlier; I hope it snows all night. It's more fun to have tons of snow than just a little bit!

"Well, see you tomorrow!" Glass says when we reach her house. Before she goes inside we do our secret handshake: two quick pumps, two long pumps, a fist bump, and a clap. It always makes us laugh.

Together we say our chant: "Best friends now, later, and forever!" When Flaire's here, we do it with her too. I can't imagine not being friends with Glass or Flaire. We're going to be friends forever, just like we say!

"Happy Yuletide!" Glass says before going in the house.

"Happy Yuletide!" Shine and I say back. Glass grins, and shuts the door behind her.

"C'mon," I tell Shine. "I'm cold."

"Me too."

It's dark by the time we get home, and a little spooky on the road. "We're home!" I shout as I push the door open. The house smells wonderful, like baking, and it's so toasty warm.

"There are my girls!" Father says, grabbing Shine and throwing her up in the air. She's so little that he doesn't have any trouble lifting her. I'm only a little bit bigger; I wish I was really tall. Like a giant!

"You're just in time to help light the candles," Mum says, untying her apron. I can see a couple loaves of honey bread and a plate of molasses cookies behind her. The candles! I pull off my boots and scarf as fast as I can, not even bothering to put them away. The candles are more important!

"I put them in the holders!" Glint says proudly, pointing at the six white candles in their gold-plated sticks. Father made the candlesticks a long time ago, as a wedding present for Mum. They're so pretty, but I wish we didn't have plain white candles in them.

I wish we had red candles like Glass has.

"Can we have red candles next year?" I ask Mum.

"We'll see, Silver. The white ones do just as well," Mum says, putting her apron up on its peg on the wall.

"I think Silver should light the first candle tonight. She's ten, after all," Father says, carrying Shine over to the table where the candles are.

"Me? Really?" I ask. Father nods.

"I think you're old enough, don't you?"

"Yes!" I say, almost shouting.

"Quieter, Silver," Mum warns, pulling out the matchbox and handing me one single match. "Strike it against the box, and carefully."

"I can do it," I tell her. I'm old enough to light the candles! I should be so happy, but I'm still trying to figure out what the traditions mean to me. I love the candles, love the gifts, love the food- but what does it all mean?

"Why so serious, daughter?" Father asks when I don't strike the match.

I put the match down on the table. "Ms. Riverworth told us to think about what the traditions mean to us, but I don't know what they mean to me!"

Mum sits down on one of the chairs and asks, "What do you love best about the traditions, Silver?"

"I don't know!"

"What are you thankful for this Yuletide, then?" Father asks, putting Shine down.

"The snow," I say immediately. "And my friends and-" I stop.

"And?" Mum asks, smiling at me.

"I guess I like being with everyone," I say slowly.

"Family," Father says. I nod.

"I think traditions mean family to me." That sounds right. I like being here all together with Mum and Father, and even Glint and Shine (though they drive me crazy!). I like having my friends, and I like the snow too. I like being together at Yuletide.

"Light the candle, daughter," Father says gently, hand on my shoulder. Carefully, I strike the match and hold the flame to the wick. After a few seconds, the wick ignites, giving off a pretty, rosy glow. And oh, I love the candles too.

Father takes the match from me and lights the others, until all six candles are burning. Mum's right, we don't need red candles. White is just as beautiful.

"A tradition passed down the ages, from the time before, to the time now," Father says.

"What's the time before?" Glint asks.

"Before Panem," Mum says.

I can't imagine a time before Panem, and I can't imagine a time any different than the one I'm in right now. The Capitol looks after us all, as Father says, and they'll keep doing that forever. Forever is a wonderful word. Friends forever, happy forever, forever.

I'm happy just being ten right now, though. I have everything I could ever want, with these glowing candles.

Well, maybe I might like some presents too.

But now I know that Yuletide means family, and that makes tonight even more perfect.

"Happy Yuletide," I say quietly, looking away from the candlelight to my parents.

"Happy Yuletide, daughter," Father says, holding me close.

I think this might be my favorite Yuletide yet.


	2. A New Year's Sign

** Dexsia Greentree, Age 8 **

**_ From The Most Dangerous Game _**

"It's heavy!" I say, struggling to hold the sword up. I've never used a sword before; we've been dueling with sticks since the summer. This is the first day I've even been allowed to touch a sword, let alone hold one.

"Are you complaining, Greentree?" Aulus asks, eyebrow raised.

"No sir!" I was just stating a fact; I'll never complain, never! Not after Aulus chose me out of everyone else to be his tribute.

"You're wondering why you're training with a sword instead of knives, aren't you?" Aulus asks, taking the heavy blade from me.

"Maybe just a little," I admit. I sort of wish he would give me throwing knives to work with; they seem a lot easier than the sword.

"Anyone can throw a knife, Greentree. You've got to have real talent with a sword," Aulus says, digging his sword tip into the sand of the training ground.

I can feel my face turn bright red, and it's not because it's cold. "You think I have talent?" I ask in a small voice.

"Wouldn't have picked you if you didn't. You're eight now, aren't you?"

"I'll be nine in January."

"Then we've got nine years to get you into shape." Aulus gives me one of his rare smiles. "You'll be a victor yet, Greentree. Just you watch."

A victor! Me! I take and pick the sword up again, my arms trembling with the weight, and Aulus starts teaching me again, with parrying and thrusts, and all sorts of moves that make my head dizzy. But if Aulus thinks that I can be a victor, I can't let him down!

It doesn't take very long before I can't even lift the sword anymore, even though I'm really trying. "That's enough for today. You've done well, Greentree," Aulus says, taking the heavy sword back. He makes it look so easy.

"Do I meet you tomorrow?" I ask.

"What do you think?"

"It's the New Year tomorrow."

"And? You've got nine New Years before you volunteer."

"I'll come," I say. No matter what, I want Aulus to be happy with me. The worst thing in the world would be if he decided he didn't want me as his tribute anymore. See, I competed with a bunch of other kids in the summer, to get chosen by a victor. A boy got chosen by Athena Fieldman, the other District 2 victor, and Aulus Buteo chose me!

Which means in nine years I'll be eighteen, and then I'll volunteer and win the Hunger Games!

I can barely wait.

"See you tomorrow, Greentree," Aulus says. He starts to walk away, swords in both hands, and I don't think he's going to turn around, but then he stops and looks back. "Happy New Year, girl."

"Thank you, sir!" I say, bobbing up and down. He makes me nervous, just a little. I mean, he won the Hunger Games; he's nearly invincible. Almost like a god!

And he chose me!

After sword fighting for over an hour, I'm really warm, even though my breath makes clouds in the air. When I breathe out, I pretend I'm a dragon. It's New Years! There's so much to do at home I can't even think about it straight.

I really hope Gallus helps me and Mother get the house ready! He's older than me, but he's so much more serious. And he spends all his time combing his hair in the mirror.

And I wish it would snow soon! It's cold, but nothing's happened yet. I think having snow would be the perfect way to celebrate the New Year!

"I'm home!" I sing when I burst through my front door. I love my house, love my bedroom, love everything about it. We're so lucky to live in District 2.

"How was training?" Mother asks, putting her washcloth down.

"Good! Are you cleaning?"

"A clean house for a New Year," she says. Beside her, Gallus is frowning, scrubbing the floor with a big sponge.

"Don't see why you're training at all," he says.

"Um, to volunteer?" I tell him. He should know that; he competed to be chosen too! It's not my fault he's not good with swords and stuff. Then I remember what Aulus said and I say, "Oh, Mother! Aulus says I have talent! He says that I'm going to be a victor someday!"

"Of course you are; that's why you're training," Mother says, starting to scrub the wall again.

"Why do you even want to volunteer anyway?" Gallus says. "The Hunger Games are awful."

"You've been competing every year to get chosen by Aulus or Athena!" I exclaim. He wants to be a tribute just as bad as I do!

"Changed my mind," Gallus grumbles, scrubbing the same spot on the floor over and over again.

"Let's leave that topic where it lies, you two," Mother says. "Dexsia, go get the broom and start sweeping the parts of the room Gallus hasn't scrubbed yet."

I stick my tongue out at the broom when I go to get it. I hate sweeping! But, hey! The broom could be a sword, and I could teach Gallus how to duel, so that next year he can compete again and get chosen.

"Hey, Gallus! Let's swordfight! I can teach you." My arms are really sore, but I hold the broom the way Aulus taught me.

"I don't need teaching."

"You can try again next year if I teach you lots this year."

"I don't want to try again," Gallus says. "Plus they said I was too old."

"Why?"

"Dexsia, stop plaguing your brother. And the victors don't want to train children who are already reaping age," Mother says, turning to look at me. "You're lucky you got in with Aulus, and that's all I'm going to say about it."

I know a hint to be quiet when I see one, so I just finish sweeping the floor while Gallus finishes scrubbing the other end.

"When's Father going to be home?" I finally ask.

"The usual time, for supper."

"But he's always late!" I complain.

"Dex, come on!" Gallus says, standing up and dropping his sponge into the bucket. "Let's go upstairs."

"I'll call you for supper," Mother says. I think she looks relieved to have us both gone. Hmph. Gallus looks at me, nodding with his head towards the stairs. I nod back, and we run upstairs together, up to his room.

"Can't believe it's New Year's already!" I say, flopping down on his bed.

Gallus nods, his mind obviously somewhere else. "Whatcha thinking about?"

"I'm glad I didn't get chosen by Aulus or Athena," Gallus says, sitting down on the rug cross-legged.

"Why?"

"I think the Games are awful, Dex!" he blurts out. "I don't want to kill anyone."

"But if you win, you get rich!" I say. "Like Aulus."

"I don't want to be rich. I think I want to be a Peacekeeper instead."

"You can be a Peacekeeper, and I can be a victor." Perfect, things are settled already. I think Gallus would make a better Peacekeeper than tribute anyway.

"I don't think you should be a tribute at all!"

I shrug. "I've got nine years, Gallus. That means I'll compete in the, the-" I start counting on my fingers which Games I'll be in.

"The Thirty-sixth," Gallus says. He's better at math than me.

"Yeah! The Thirty-sixth." I grin at my brother. "I'm only eight, Gal. I'm not going anywhere for a long time!"

Gallus looks cheerier after I say that. He should be happy, it's New Year's!

Downstairs, I can hear a door slam. "Father's home!" I yell, jumping off of Gallus's bed and almost falling over in the process.

"Dex, be careful!" Gallus calls after me while I run for the stairs.

"I'm always careful!" I call back. I jump the last few stairs and shout, "Happy New Year's, Father!"

"Happy New Year's! There's my girl," Father says, picking me up and hugging me.

"You're really dirty," I say, laughing.

Father laughs too. "I am a blacksmith, Dexsia. It's not a clean job."

"You go get cleaned up; supper's nearly ready," Mother says, giving Father a kiss. I wrinkle my nose; I don't like romance at all.

"Alright, back in a minute," Father says, putting me down and going off to the bathroom. He's always dirty when he comes home; I don't think I'd like to be a blacksmith just because of that.

"Hey, Dex!" Gallus calls. Why's he standing by the window?

"What?"

"Look outside!"

Racing to the window next to him, I look out and see- snow! "It's snowing! It's snowing!" I shriek, jumping up and down.

"Come on!" Suddenly Gallus runs for the door and throws it open; a rush of cold air whips inside. It smells cold and clean- snowy! "Come on, Dex!"

"Put your shoes on!" Mother says, but we don't listen at all. The thin blanket of snow on the ground burns my feet, but I don't care one bit. The New Year is coming in with snow, and it's the best sign of them all.

Mother sticks her head out the door. "You're going to freeze your feet off, and where will you be then?" she asks.

"It's snowing!" I shout again, jumping up and down and leaving funny footprints in the snow.

She smiles. "Next year is going to be a good year."

"Why is snow on New Year's a good thing again?"

Mother catches a snowflake in her hand, watching it melt away into nothing. "The more snow we have, the more luck we'll have in the New Year."

"I hope it snows a lot the year I volunteer," I say. Nine years away! It seems impossible that I'll ever be eighteen.

I'm going to get good at using the swords, and I'm going to make everyone proud of me. Especially Aulus!

"I hope so too," Mother says. "Come inside before your feet freeze off completely. Supper's just about ready."

"Come on Gallus!" I shout. He's trying to make snowballs, but it's the wrong kind of snow. Too powdery.

"Race you inside!" he says, grabbing a handful of snow in one hand. Right before we reach the door, he drops it down the back of my neck. I shriek with how cold it is, all the way down my back.

"Gallus!"

"Happy New Year, Dexsia!" he says, right before he books it inside.

"I'll get you!"

It's New Year's tomorrow, and even though I don't really know what's going to happen next year (besides me turning nine!), I think it's going to be a good one. Everything is just right, and I think it will be always just right. Gallus and I will always be friends, I'm always going to get better with Aulus, and one day, I'm going to be District 2's victor.

I just have to grow up first!


	3. Winter Miracle

** Astrid Clearwater, Age 12 **

**_ From More than Chance _**

Even though I have Mama's old threadbare shawl wrapped around me, the apartment's chill still cuts through it. There's no fire in the stove, and there's no wood to light one.

What's the cold going to do to Axel?

"Mama," I call down the hall. When I talk the air from my mouth turns into white fog.

"Astrid," she calls back. I've been sitting in one of the kitchen chairs for the last hour, pretending that there's a fire in the stove, but there's no use doing that anymore. When I get up, I can't feel my toes.

It's only a few steps into the bedroom, where Mama is sitting next to a feverish Axel.

"How is he?" I ask quietly.

Mama doesn't look away from the baby; her mouth just pulls tighter into her worried look. "We'll see, Astrid. We'll pray and see."

"Can't we get a doctor?" I blurt out.

Mama shakes her head. What a stupid question to ask; we don't have enough money for firewood; where would we get the money to pay a doctor?

"Where's Saul then?" I ask instead. Looking up near the ceiling, the nails on the wall are coated with frost. It's a bad winter this year.

"Out," Mama replies, her mouth still tight.

"He's always out," I say bitterly. Saul works, but he spends all his money on liquor and in the pubs. My stepfather is hardly ever home, which is both good and bad. Good because I hate him, bad because we don't have money.

Mama doesn't say anything, just smooths Axel's dark, damp hair back from his face. He's bundled up in every blanket we own, but what is the cold and a fever going to do to a two-year-old?

"Couldn't you get a job?" I ask. I shouldn't be so blunt to my mother, but I'm scared. Scared of freezing to death, scared of losing Axel. Scared, scared, scared.

"I can't leave Axel alone," Mama says. And even though I'd like to argue that she could find a neighbour, somebody to watch my brother, I know she couldn't.

Between Saul and me, nobody likes our family much. Saul, the drunk, and me with my red hair. What a pair we are.

"I could get a job then," I say. Somebody's got to hire a twelve-year-old for something, don't you think? I already take out tesserae, but it's not going to do much if we're too frozen to cook the grain. And if we have no fire to cook it on.

"You're twelve, Astrid. You're too young," Mama says.

I want to argue with her, but Axel wakes up a little and coughs. Mama motions for me to grab the bucket of water, and I do; she dips the ladle in and lets Axel drink. He coughs again, then his eyes flutter shut again, two red circles on his cheeks.

"You go get some rest, Astrid," Mama says. There are lines around her eyes, and dark circles under them. Axel's been sick for two days now, and Saul hasn't even bothered to ask how he is. I hope Saul doesn't come home at all tonight; it'll save a fight in the end.

"Mama," I start, but she shakes her head.

"I'll be fine. You wrap up and stay warm. I'll think of something, sweetheart."

I'm too cold to argue anymore, so I tiptoe back into the big room, where my bedroll is spread out next to the icy stove. It's too thin; I can feel every floorboard under me when I lie down. But it's better than nothing. Mama and Saul usually have the bedroom, and Axel and I share the bedroll out here.

What if Axel dies?

I can't just do nothing.

Wrapping the shawl even more closely around me, and ignoring the cold pinching in my toes, I get back up and peer into the bedroom again. Mama's hand is on Axel's stomach, but her head has drooped onto the bed, asleep. She's so tired; she hasn't slept properly since Axel got sick.

Trusting the door to not squeak just this one time, I slip out of the cold apartment, closing the door behind me. The hallway out here isn't in much better condition than my apartment; water damp ceilings, peeling wallpaper, broken doors. It's so quiet that I can hear every footstep I take in my worn shoes.

As I pass by Mrs. Rosecraft's door, it opens. The old woman stands in her doorway and scowls at me, even though I'm trying to be quiet.

I can hear her spit at me after I've moved past her apartment.

A couple of the stairs are broken, so I have to hop over a couple on my way down. One day, I'm going to get a good job, better than what Saul has, and I'm going to get Mama and Axel and me a better apartment. One that doesn't leak or let the frost in. And we'll always have money for firewood.

At the bottom of the stairs there's another hallway leading to the front door. The glass in it is cracked too, so I can feel the wind even before I push the door open.

The snow is deep and it just keeps coming down; District 3 hasn't had this bad a winter in my whole life. For a second I think about going back inside, where it's a little warmer than out here, but what about Axel?

So what am I going to do?

I could find Saul; I know which pub he frequents the most, but he can't do anything. All he'd do is go home and yell at Mama, flat out drunk. No, Saul is not the man to find. A doctor, or somebody who might give a few coins out, that's who I should find.

Nobody is going to help me with my red hair, though. The first thing I do, winking against the cold snowflakes that fly into my eyes, is wrap the thin grey shawl over my head, so they can't see my hair. Red hair in District 3 isn't a good thing; the only way someone can get it is by having a relative from another district, or even the Capitol.

And even if my father was a Peacekeeper, they shouldn't care about that today. Not with my brother so sick.

The wind rushes through the streets that are lined by leaning houses; blackened and falling down just like my apartment building. I could have been in school today, where the rooms are actually warm, but Mama wouldn't let me out of the house in the storm. I wouldn't have left them anyway, with Axel sick.

But I did leave and here I am, in the middle of the storm, the wind cutting through me like a knife. Maybe somebody will hire me to do something, anything! I'm twelve, and I had my first reaping this summer. If I'm old enough to maybe get chosen for the Hunger Games, I'm old enough to work.

With an especially large gust, the wind shoves me into a dark storefront window. This part of District 3 doesn't get electricity very much, so the dark doesn't surprise me. Instead, I make my way to the door handle and let myself in.

The shop is just as cold as outside; my fingers are stiff and they hurt a little. Behind the counter a man stands, scowling at me. I guess this is a parts shop, a junk shop; they're pretty common in 3.

"What do you want?" he snaps, still frowning.

"I'm looking for a job," I blurt out, trying to look as old and dignified as possible.

The man laughs harshly, then coughs. "You? How old are you?"

"Fourteen," I lie.

"You don't look a day over eleven," he says. "What could you do for me?"

"Anything."

"Anything? I doubt you could do half the things in this shop. And I'm not hiring anyway, so why don't you run on home, girlie? Nothing for you here."

"Please! My brother is sick, and we need money for a doctor!" I plead. I hate begging, but I'm so scared.

"None of my concern. Out!"

"But-"

"Out!"

I turn and run from the shop, blinking back tears. I try again at the next shop I find. And the next and the next. And the answer is always no.

When I can't feel my face from cold, I curl up in a doorway. I know I look like one of the homeless kids around 3, but I don't care. Mama's probably worried sick about me, and I haven't come any closer to getting money or firewood. At least the Peacekeepers haven't come for me yet.

"Little girl, are you alright?"

I glance up to see a man dressed better than anyone in this area typically does. He looks a little shocked to see me, maybe because of my green eyes that nobody else has. Outsider eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asks again.

"I'm fine." Don't trust anyone on the streets, hardly anyone means well in these neighborhoods.

"Don't you have a home to go to?" Why is he so interested? The wind throws more snow in my eyes and it hurts.

"Of course I have a home!" I say, holding my head high. "I'm just out looking for work."

"You?"

"Me. My brother is sick and we don't have money for a doctor, so I'm looking to earn some."

The man smiles and tightens his red scarf around his neck. "I'm a doctor," he says. My heart lifts a little, and so does my hope. "I can help your brother."

"I don't have money," I say quickly. He shakes his head.

"I'll help you, money or no money."

I lead the man back to my apartment building, through the wind and snowy streets. Maybe this is a stupid idea, and he'll rob us for all we have, but we don't have much of anything anyway. And if I can get Axel well again, then Saul doesn't ever have to know either.

"Up here," I say quietly. It's getting dark now, and that makes it even colder in my building. When I look at the man's face, I think he looks shocked to see where I live.

"This is my home," I tell him, pushing the door open. When I get inside, Mama's nearly hysterical.

"Where were you? I woke up and you were gone, and Astrid, how could you leave without telling me?" she scolds, pulling me close to her and hugging me. "You're near frozen solid; what were you thinking?"

"She was thinking to help her brother," the doctor says, stepping forward through the door almost shyly. "I'm a doctor, ma'am. I can help your son."

"We don't have the money," Mama says, looking at me in the way that tells me I'm in trouble. I shrink inside myself; please let this have been worth it!

"No money needed. Where is your son?" the doctor asks. Mama stands stock still for a second, then leads the way into the bedroom. I follow close behind, melting snow dripping on the wood floors. I'll have to mop that up in a minute.

When I peer in through the doorway, the doctor is kneeling next to Axel, checking his forehead and his neck and whatever else doctors are supposed to do. "I believe he has pneumonia," the doctor says at last, standing up.

"Will he be okay?" I ask quietly.

The doctor looks grave, but he says, "I'll go back to my office and bring medicine here before the morning. With some careful tending, and the medication I'll provide, he'll be alright."

Mama bursts into tears, thanking the doctor over and over. He nods to her, and starts to make his way towards the front door. I grab his sleeve, stopping him.

"Why are you helping us?" I ask, letting the shawl fall from my head, revealing my red hair. He doesn't even react.

"I have a friend, and his mother saved my life when I was a boy. Now I'm a doctor and want to pay that back."

"How can you afford it, though?"

"Astrid!" Mama calls from back in the bedroom.

"My friend pays for everything."

"Who's your friend?" Curiosity is getting the better of me, isn't it?

The doctor smiles. "Beetee Latier."

"The victor?"

"The very same. I'll get your brother's medicine, and he'll be right again soon." The doctor smiles and nods towards our stove. "And I'll bring the firewood too."

Then he's gone, leaving me alone with my mother and brother, who will be well soon. I'm not going to lose Axel.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Mama says, coming to wrap her arms around me. "The man is a saint, a true saint."

"It was a miracle he found me," I say, almost in wonder at what's happened this afternoon.

"A winter miracle," Mama agrees. "Let's go back to Axel to wait for the doctor."

I realize I don't even know the doctor's name. But isn't it funny that a victor is helping save my brother's life?

When I look at my brother's flushed face, and hold his warm hand, I know he's going to be okay. Soon it will be warm in the apartment, and maybe Saul will stay out all night so I don't have to see him, and Mama will make some of the tesserae grain on the stove to eat.

It really is a winter miracle.


	4. December Oceans

** Cass Oceansong, Age 9 **

**_ From Phoenix Rising _**

"Get up, get up, get up!"

I pull the blankets a little tighter over my head. It's too cold to get up yet. Wave pulls my covers off anyway, and freezing air attacks my bare legs.

"Wave!" I complain, sitting up. I'm awake now, that's for sure. She giggles and plops herself down next to me.

"You have to get up, you promised!" she says.

"What did I promise again?" I ask, rubbing my eyes.

"We've got to go to the beach! Come on, we have to get the decorations, Cass you promised," Wave says, looking scared like she thinks I might break my promise. I won't, I remember now.

"It's the Seabreeze Times!" I shout, grabbing my little sister and tickling her until she starts hiccupping with laughter.

When she catches her breath again she asks, "Why is it called that anyway?"

"Life is supposed to be as free and easy as an ocean breeze, that's why," Sea says, poking her head in the bedroom doorway. "And you should get up or you'll miss the whole thing."

"Don't be bossy, Sea," I say, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. Just because she's eleven, she thinks she can get away with telling us what to do.

"Well hurry up then," she says before disappearing from the doorway. I can hear her clatter her way down the stairs, jumping the last step like she always does. The smell of seaweed buns floats up into my bedroom, making my mouth water.

"I'll meet you downstairs; just going to get dressed," I tell Wave. She and I share a room, and Sea has her own, but now that Cressida is getting older, we'll have to switch up. I'm not really looking forward to sharing a room with Sea at all. I love her, but she's bossy. Sissy is still only one, so we have time yet, though.

Once I'm dressed, I run downstairs too. Mother turns with Cressida in her arms, and smiles at me. "Good morning, Cass," she says brightly.

"Happy Seabreeze Times!" I say, throwing my arms around her. Sissy laughs her baby laugh, waving her arms in the air.

"Are you going down to get the driftwood?" Mother asks, hugging me back.

"Of course."

"Grab a bun and let's go!" Wave says, bouncing up and down at the table. She's only two years younger than me, and one of my best friends. I hope my other best friend, Tempest, will be at the beach too.

"Are you coming with us?" I ask Sea.

"Of course I am," Sea says. "I always come, don't I?"

"Making sure," Wave says, stuffing a bun in her mouth and running to grab her boots.

"The Flanagans are coming for supper tonight, don't you forget that," Mother says, putting a wriggly Sissy down on the floor. Cressida waves her arms and starts to cry.

"I won't," I tell her seriously. I won't forget, I never do.

"And be careful out there."

"We will."

I know Mother is a little scared to let us go out alone, but she's good at hiding it. "Sea, you're in charge. Cass, Wave, you listen to your sister, do you hear me?"

"Yes, Mother," Wave and I chant, and Sea looks satisfied.

Mother kisses us each on the forehead, and whispers to me, "Have fun, my solemn one." I smile at her, then run out the door after my sisters.

I'm always a little scared going out of the house, even just going to school. I don't like seeing the Peacekeepers walking the streets, and I don't like the square with the whipping block, and I really don't like seeing our fish go to the Capitol every day.

Wave weaves her fingers in with mine, and we don't talk at all as we walk along the snowy streets towards the docks and the beach. When we reach the sand, I stop for a moment and just stare out at the water. It's a grey day, and the ocean is dark, dark blue, the waves just gently washing up on the beach.

Somewhere out there my father is fishing, just like a lot of the other fishermen, and tonight he'll smuggle us home a couple fat fishes for our celebration supper. Everything else he catches goes to the Capitol, and I don't like it one bit.

"Cass!" When I pull my head out of the grey clouds, I see my best friend, Tempest, running towards me, shells and a stick in hand. She reaches me and bends over, panting. "Happy Seabreeze Times!" she says when she finally has her breath.

"Happy Seabreeze Times!" I tell her back, giving her a hug. "You're coming tonight, aren't you?"

"Me, my parents, and the baby," Tempest agrees. A few months ago, Tempest's mother had a new baby, a little girl they call Mags. She's cute; she already has some red hair that matches Tempest's.

"What do you have so far?" I ask, looking at the few items she holds in her hands.

"Couple of shells and this," she says, holding up the straight grey stick, "But it isn't very good."

"Found one!" Wave calls, already out roaming the sand.

"Come on! Are you two just going to talk the whole time?" Sea calls, going after Wave. Tempest and I grin at each other, and start after my sisters.

After a while, we've gathered up shells, smooth stones, the shell of a crab, and a bunch of driftwood; some smaller curling sticks and a big log, grey and twisted in the middle.

I wave to some other girls and boys I know; Erin Greylight, Keel Odair, Mara Ropewing. All friends from school who are now searching the beaches for the driftwood that is so special during the Seabreeze Times.

"I think we have enough," Sea says, holding the big log in her arms. "Let's get home and put them out."

"I'll see you tonight!" Tempest says, struggling to keep hold of her own treasures.

"See you!"

The walk home is just as scary; the Peacekeepers we pass all give us frowning looks, like we shouldn't be holding wood and shells. They've been in District 4 for years, and they still don't understand the Seabreeze Times.

"We're home, Mother!" Sea calls as soon as we step in the door.

"Shush and hush, the babe is sleeping," Mother says, coming out with a finger to her lips. She smiles when she sees what we have, however.

"You can put everything you have on the cupboard, as usual," she says pointing to the old oak cabinet. "But keep back a few shells for the table."

Wave carefully puts the shells on the kitchen table, while Sea and I decorate the cupboard with the big driftwood log, surrounded by shells and smaller pieces of wood. When we're done, it looks beautiful. Mother comes behinds us, and I can feel her happiness and satisfaction with it.

"Here's the final touch," she says gently, placing the candlestick with the tall white candle behind the log. "You've done beautiful work."

I beam at her and my sisters.

When the sky grows dark, my father opens the front door, blowing in with a gust of cold air. He smells of fish and sea salt, and I don't mind one bit.

"Here's our supper, Claire," he says, holding out two fat silver fish to my mother.

"You didn't get caught with these?" Mother asks in surprise. These fish are bigger than what he usually brings home.

"They didn't even look at me. Don't you worry, Claire, I'm a careful man."

Mother smiles. "I know you are, Kai."

While my father washes up, my mother cleans and prepares the fishes; Sea does some knitting at the table, while Wave and I entertain baby Sissy, who's since woken up. Every time she laughs, I feel a big ball of happy light inside me, making me warm all over.

"They're here!" Wave shouts, running to the door as soon as we hear the soft knocking on it. Mother pulls her apron off quick, just as my sister flings the door open to reveal Tempest and her family.

Mr. Flanagan is a tall and solemn looking man, with pale hair and a beard. Mrs. Flanagan, Tempest's mother, is small and pointy chinned, and freckled all over her face. Her red hair is pulled back tonight, but she looks very happy to be here. In her arms is baby Mags, wrapped up tight against the cold, and next to her is Tempest, a big grin plastered across her face.

"Welcome in, welcome in!" Mother says, pulling the Flanagans in, taking coats and babes, then turning right back around to work on the supper.

Father comes out, hair still damp, and greets Mr. Flanagan with a great big handshake and a sort of hug. "Lorn, glad to see you," he says jovially.

"Likewise as always, Kai," Mr. Flanagan says, less so.

Mags gets passed around, and so does Sissy. "They're going to be great friends when they're older, Lise," Mother says. Mrs. Flanagan beams at her; they've been friends for a long time.

"Is it time to light the candle yet?" Wave asks, bouncing impatiently in a chair.

"What do you think, Kai?" Mother asks.

"No better time than the present," Father says, going over to the cabinet; he pulls out the box of matches and we all gather around him, the babies too.

"This is my favorite part," Wave whispers in my ear, and I nod.

As Father touches the lit match to the candle, we all softly sing the old song:

_  
"Welcome Winter,_

_Bring thy cheer,_

_We welcome all your tidings here._

_O'er sea or storm_

_Or ocean foam_

_Bring thy joy into our home._

_As sea breezes are easy_

_Free and clear,_

_So is your presence here._

_Welcome Winter,_

_Great or small,_

_Bring your blessings to us all."  
_

When we're quiet once more, I can see Wave's eyes shining with candlelight and magic. Yes, Winter. Bring your blessings to us all.

I look around the room at all my loved ones, and I know that I really am blessed. That's the meaning of the Seabreeze Times, isn't it? It's knowing that you love and are loved.

I truly am blessed.

** Shore Seawind, Age 16 **

**_ From More than Chance _**

"Here's to Riptide Morain, the victor of the Fortieth Hunger Games!" Mayor Molony shouts, and we all cheer back.

There are cameras everywhere, capturing every minute of the celebration, all for our newest District 4 victor. He's eighteen, two years older than me, and I haven't seen him smile once. He made it home, and he's a victor, but I know his Games were difficult for him.

"He's cheery," Hake says, coming up behind me.

"Don't you know it," I say back. "They should be announcing who the volunteers are going to be pretty soon."

"Won't be either of us," Hake says, staring at Riptide, who's making odd twitching motions with his hands, his eyes glassed over. "Bet he's wishing it wasn't him either."

"He won well, though," I point out. Riptide Morain was one of the most skilled tributes in the last Games- and his victory was well deserved.

"When the cameras turn off, that's when they'll announce the volunteers," Hake says with certainty. He isn't wrong; that's how they do it every year. No point in letting the Capitol know that we've created a better system here than what they created up in the mountains.

"Having a good time?"

My heart does a funny little leap at the sound of her voice. I turn slightly and there she is, Thalassa Roving, with the red hair and green eyes. Lots of people in 4 have the same features, but I think it looks best on her.

She's my other best friend, and, she doesn't know this, I'm in love with her. Hake knows, though, and he keeps poking me in the side. If I looked at him, I bet he'd be wearing that stupid grin of his.

"Yeah, just waiting to find out who the volunteers are going to be," I say.

"Who do you think it's going to be this year?" she asks. "I'll bet it's going to be Ruby Tidelane and Keegan O'Reese."

"Probably," I reply, before getting distracted by the camera crews shutting down their cameras and packing them away. "Guess we'll find out soon."

Once all the Capitol people have left, most of them a bit drunk, the head of the council, Ben Stormline, gets up onto the stage that Mayor Molony has only just deserted. "Thank you for coming to our victory celebration. We're all very proud of last year's volunteer, who fought his way to victory and brought honor to our district. We have chosen the volunteers for this coming summer, and we hope that our choices will bring about the same result."

Ben pauses for breath. The volunteers have been a good idea since they were instated years ago. The tributes who aren't volunteered for die in the bloodbath most times, while the chosen volunteers make it to the end more often than not. Volunteering the strongest is the best chance we have of bringing tributes home.

"It is my great honor to announce that the female tribute for the Forty-first Hunger Games will be Aria Combstar."

There's a great show of applause and turning around to see who she is; a tall girl with reddish hair, who wears a look of indifference on her face. She looks strong, and she'll make it far into the Games.

"And as for our male tribute; it was a difficult decision this year, as he is younger than our tributes usually are, but we have every faith in him that he will bring honor to our district as well. Our tribute is Shore Seawind."

Hake claps me on the back as I break out into a grin of utmost surprise. Me? They chose me to be the volunteer? I'm only going to be seventeen at the Games! Me!

"Hey, well done! You're the volunteer!" Hake crows, fairly shaking me in his enthusiasm. I'm dimly aware of everyone clapping for me, but the thing I notice most is a gentle hand slipping into my own.

"You're the volunteer, congratulations," Thalassa says, looking up at me. I'm only a little taller than she is, so she doesn't have to look far.

"Thanks," I reply, still in shock. I'm the volunteer for the next Hunger Games! I honestly can't believe it. Me!

"Thank you everyone, and congratulations to our volunteers!" Ben shouts again, to more applause. Somebody goes and gets Riptide, leading him off, and the whole party starts to break apart.

"Let's go somewhere else," Thalassa whispers, and I let her take my hand, let her lead me out the door and down the road towards the docks.

By the time I really wake up again from my shocked dream state, we're standing on the rough wood of the wharf, the place where I spend most days, when I'm not out on the Jewel.

"It's cold tonight, isn't it?" Thalassa says, taking a seat at the edge of the dock, swinging her legs over so that they dangle above the water.

"It is December," I say, sitting down to join her.

"How do you feel about being the volunteer?" she asks solemnly.

I shrug. "I- I don't know. I can't believe they would volunteer me a year early."

"You can do it. You'll win."

"I'll give it my best shot." They think I can win; Thalassa thinks I can win. "No, I'll win. I promise I'll win."

"Good," she says, and I can hear her smile. We're quiet for a few minutes, just listening to the water rush against the beams of the dock, until Thalassa says, "Look at the stars, Shore. Aren't they beautiful tonight?"

I look up, and she's right; thousands and millions of stars shine above us, in the familiar constellations that every sailor and fisherman knows. I'm dizzy with the largeness of the sky, the fact that I'm the volunteer, and the fact that Thalassa brought me down here to talk. My heart keeps doing funny things, and it's not because I'm going to be a tribute.

"Would you get me a star if you could, Shore?" she asks quietly.

"Of course."

"I think it would be beautiful if we could just go up and dance amongst the stars, don't you?"

"You'd look really pretty in starlight," I say, and almost immediately mentally curse myself for saying that. She's my friend, my friend I'm in love with, and I don't want to ruin that, never.

I can hear Thalassa's smile again when she speaks again. "You like me, don't you Shore?"

I can feel myself go bright red. "What if I do?" I ask, trying to speak intelligently.

"Just answer the question, idiot," she says.

"Yeah. I do." There it is, it's out, and now I've ruined everything.

"Well good, because I like you too." And before I can do or say anything, she's breached the gap between us, and she's kissing me, and the world is starlit and wonderful, so wonderful.

When she breaks away, she says, "Hope you don't mind."

In response I kiss her again, my heart doing a joyful dance in my chest.

"Maybe I don't like you, maybe I love you," I murmur.

"Then that's even better, don't you think?" she says back.

I don't even notice the crisp December wind blowing in from the ocean, I forget about volunteering and tributes; I forget about everything else but Thalassa.

"I think so too."


	5. Returning of the Light

** Violet Lowroot, Age 9 **

**_ From Phoenix Rising _**

"Is there going to be a war, Mama?"

"Now why are you worried about a thing like that?" Mama asks, pulling her worn coat on over top of her red dress. Both are patched, just like my dress and coat, but she doesn't complain. Neither will I.

"Everyone's talking about it," I tell her. "Marie said that if the war does come, the Capitol will kill everyone."

"Now Mouse, that's not true," Mama says, bending down to help me button my long coat up. The buttons are stiff. "I don't know if there will be one or not, but let's not worry about that now. And if Marie says anything more, don't you listen to her. Everything will be alright."

"Promise?"

"I promise that I will keep you safe," Mama says, straightening back up. "We'll be late if we don't hurry, Mouse."

"I'll hurry." I pull my boots on as fast as I can, but they're getting too small for me and they hurt. I won't tell Mama, though. Sometimes we have to bear things, and this is one of them.

We live on the bottom floor of a two-story house, painted light pink. Papa painted it like that because I like the color, and I still do. The lady who lives upstairs, Mrs. Heavenbloom, doesn't like it as much I don't think. Still, she's nice, and I like her too.

I hold tight to Mama's hand while we walk through the streets of District 5. I don't like being out of the house; I don't like strangers, especially the Peacekeepers. It's a long walk to the school, and an even longer walk to the power plant where Mama works. A lot of the other kids go to school alone, but Mama walks with me every day.

"Don't look, Mouse," Mama says quietly as we pass the piazza. Even though I'm scared to look, I peek anyway. After one quick look, I bury my face in Mama's skirt and try not to cry.

"Who is it, Mama?" I whisper. Who is the lady who's hanging from the scaffold? She has such pretty red shoes on; why did they kill her?

"I don't know, Violet," Mama says very seriously. "Let's hurry." She starts to walk even faster, the thick heels of her black boots thudding against the road. A car full of Peacekeepers drives by, guns in their hands, making us rush towards the side of the road, fast.

"Mama?" I ask, looking up at her face. She's serious, and her mouth is pursed, like she does when she's thinking hard. "Mama, are you okay?"

She smiles at me and tugs my hand again. "Better hurry, Mouse, or we'll be late," she says again, and we march on. That lady's red shoes, hanging above the ground, stay in my head, and I wish they would go away forever.

At the big red school surrounded by the black fence, Mama pauses, pushing my hair behind my ears. "You be good today, Mouse," she tells me, giving me a kiss on the forehead. "And we'll have a lovely time tonight, I promise."

"Be careful today," I tell her. I'm always scared for her to go to work now, ever since my Papa died. If something happened to her, I don't know what I'd do! Her parents and my Papa's parents are buried out in the cemetery outside of the district, so I'd be all alone.

"Don't you worry a bit, Violet," Mama tells me. "And don't forget about tonight."

I brighten up a little, the thought of tonight pushing away the dark clouds that the lady in the piazza pushed into my head. "It's the Returning of the Light tonight, isn't it?"

"Yes, Mouse. You go on now and be good today."

"I'm always good, Mama."

"I know you are," Mama says. I wish I could stay with her all day, but I make myself walk towards the school, even though I'm scared.

"There's going to be a war, and you know it," Marie says. She's a little older than me, and everyone thinks of her as the boss, even though we're all in the same class.

"Well I don't think so," Clara says, folding her arms across her front. "I don't see anyone getting ready to have a war."

"Haven't you seen the Peacekeepers in the cars?" Marie asks exasperatedly. "The Capitol wouldn't be sending them here if they weren't worried. That's what my dad says."

"My Mama says that everything will be fine," I say, but there's a little doubt in my head. She didn't say that there wouldn't be a war, she just said that we would be alright.

"You just watch, as soon as the other districts rebel, the Capitol will come right in and shoot everyone in 5."

"You're making things up, Marie," Lina says beside me. I'm the smallest of everyone standing around Marie, and lots of times people have thought I'm seven instead of nine. I don't really like being small, and I really don't like being surrounded by tall people. It makes me shrink inside.

"Well you can tell that to my dad," Marie says stubbornly. "He says there will be a war, and he's never wrong."

The bell rings, calling us back in from recess. I'm glad; I don't want to hear Marie talk anymore about the Capitol killing us. I can still see that lady's shoes swinging from the scaffold, as red as roses. What if the Peacekeepers did that to me, and it was my black shoes hanging for everyone to see?

"Who here knows what day it is?" Teacher Runie asks. She's really pretty, and really nice too. I like her a lot, much better than my old teacher, Teacher Neo. He yelled a lot, and made me cry.

I know what day it is, but I'm too shy to raise my hand. Clara raises hers instead and says, "It's the Returning of the Light, ma'am."

"Correct, Miss East. Today is the Returning of the Light, or rather tonight will be. Who can tell me why we celebrate it?"

This time it's Marie who raises her hand. "Today is the longest night of the year, because it's winter, and from now on it's only going to get lighter out."

"Also correct," Teacher Runie says, smiling. "Tonight we will light our candles and welcome the light back into the district." Light is important in District 5; we create the electricity that powers all of Panem here, after all.

One day I'll work, just like my Mama, and I'll help keep the lights on too.

"Enjoy yourselves tonight, and I will see you tomorrow," Teacher Runie continues, just as the last bell rings. As a group, we go to the side wall where our coats and hats hang, and almost everyone chatters while we put them on. I don't talk, but I'm always relieved to see that other girls have patched clothes too. It's not just my family who doesn't have money.

On my way out the door, I can hear Marie talking about the war again; her dad is an engineer, a high up one, and he hears a lot of the news from around District 5. I don't want to hear anymore about the war, so I hurry out of the school, across the yard, and run straight into Mama's arms.

"Mama!" I say, throwing my arms around her. "Let's go home."

"Absolutely," she says. She looks and sounds tired, but she's okay, she's done her shift at the power plant. I'm always, always scared that something's going to happen to her, after Papa. He worked in one of the power plants too, but it blew up and he died. That was a few months ago, and I cry every night.

"Please, Mama, can we not go to the piazza?" I ask. I don't want to see the lady with red shoes again.

She understands. "We'll go home a different way," she says, and that's what we do.

By the time we get home, it's already dark out, and I'm tired. "When can we light the candle?" I ask, pushing the door shut behind me. The house is cold from having no fire in it all day.

"Let me start a fire, and then we'll light the candle," Mama says, leaving her coat on while she goes to the fireplace. I push myself up onto the table and sit watching her, swinging my legs while she builds the triangle of sticks and strikes the match. It'll take a long time for the fire to get big enough to keep us warm, but it's nice watching it start out anyway.

"Mama?" I ask quietly.

"Yes, Mouse?" she says, not looking at me.

"Would the Capitol kill me like they did that lady?"

Mama jumps up and hurries over to me, faster than I thought she could go. "Oh Violet, of course they won't. And I wish you hadn't seen her today, I told you not to look."

"I don't want to not know things, Mama. I'm nine now, not a baby."

"I know you're not a baby, Violet, but you're still my little girl," Mama says, hugging me tight. I hug her back and blink back a few tears. I'm not a baby, and only babies cry.

"But would they kill me, like Marie says they're going to do?" I ask even quieter.

"No, no they won't, Violet. Whatever is going to happen is between grownups, and I'd hardly think they'd involve children at all. The Capitol won't kill innocent children, I promise. Everything will be okay."

She leans back a little, but still holds my arms. "Are you ready to light that candle?"

I nod, and slide off the table.

Mama pulls the pewter candlestick off of the sideboard and places it in the middle of the round table. Everything's dark, except for the little bit of light the tiny fire in the fireplace is giving off. It's cozy.

Over at the fireplace, Mama sticks a little piece of wood into the fire, then transfers its crackling brightness onto the candle wick. It glows like a tiny sun, and it's so pretty.

Softly, Mama says the Light rhyme.

_"As Fall fades into Summers past,_

_The Winter's night is holding fast_

_But as dark winter melts into spring,_

_Luck and blessings the light shall bring."_

"I wish Papa was here," I whisper, looking at the different colors in the flame.

"Me too, Mouse. Me too," Mama says, and she holds me tight while we look at the candle and everything that it is. This candle is winter, and it's spring too. Now the light will come back, and there won't be a war, won't be anything sad next year. Won't be any red shoes hanging in the piazza.

Next year will be a better year, I hope.


	6. Skipping Rhymes and Lullabies

** Dove Rosestar, Age 7 **

**_ From The Most Dangerous Game _**

_"Roll train, roll train,_

_Right down the track._

_Roll to the Capitol_

_And never come back._

_Take them their furs_

_Their diamonds and their gold,_

_Up into the mountains_

_To the stores to be sold._

_Roll by the fields_

_Roll by the sea_

_Roll by the mines_

_But not back to me._

_Roll, train, roll train,_

_Clickity clack_

_Roll to the Capitol_

_And never come back!"_

Opal finally trips over the skip rope and falls over, giggling. Right after she goes down, my rope tangles under my feet and I trip, making me fall right on top of her.

"We got to the end of the rhyme!" Opal cheers, throwing her arms into the air. She's seven, just like me, and she's my best friend. We've been skipping for years, and we've never gotten to the end of the Train Rhyme before!

"We did it!" I say really loud, high-fiving Opal. A couple of the train workers look at us funny, but they're used to us being here. Opal and I always come down to the trainyard to skip rope after school. 'Course, it's not the only trainyard, but it's the one closest to the school.

"Don't you have something better to do?"

Opal and I both jump up when the Peacekeeper talks to us; he's one of the mean ones that walks around the trainyard and gets people in trouble. I'm so scared of him.

"We're just going home, sir," Opal says politely. Her blue jumper is smudged with dirt, and the flowers around the hem are dusty too, from jumping rope. That's okay, her mum will be able to get the dust out.

"Get, and take your ropes with you," the Peacekeeper snaps, slapping his baton against his leg. I grab my jump rope, and Opal does too, and we run away from the trainyard as fast as we can.

When we stop running, I don't know where we are.

"Opal, where's this?" I ask quietly. I'm scared of being out alone, and the sky gets dark really early now, since it's winter. Mum and Father and Cabel will be so worried if I don't go home soon!

"I don't know," Opal says back, grabbing my hand tight. Everything is grey and tall. What if more Peacekeepers come? I'm scared of them too, really, really scared.

"Oi, what do we have here?"

I hold Opal's hand even tighter when the boys come out from the shadows. They're all dirty, like they've been playing on the rails.

Father's always told me to watch out for the gangs; that's what he called them. Is this a gang?

"Just some kids," another boy answers, looking us up and down.

"We ain't bringing girls into this here gang, no siree," another boy says, shaking his head.

"I don't want to join a gang!" I shout. "I want to go home."

"You hear that, Weasel?" the first boy asks the second. "They wants to go home."

"Aw, let them," the boy called Weasel says. "Don't need girls with us, and scrawny ones at that."

I can feel my lip trembling. "I don't know how to get home!"

"Where's your house then?" Weasel asks, crossing his arms.

"I don't know."

"On your own then, kid."

Opal starts to cry next to me, and my lip shakes even harder. Weasel rolls his eyes. "I'll get you back to the main road, got it, kid?"

Why's he calling me kid? He's a kid too.

The other boys shout and boo at Weasel. "You're gonna get us all caught by the 'keepers, you know that?"

"D'you want some scrawny dark-haired girls hanging around with us, or d'you want them gone?" Weasel asks.

"G'wan then, and get 'em out. And get back quick or we're gonna leave you."

"Never caught me yet, never gonna get me ever," Weasel says. "Let's go, kids."

Opal and I drag our ropes behind us with our free hands while we follow the black haired boy called Weasel back to the main road. Everything's getting dark, and I'm scared. How are we going to get home at night?

"There, kids, that's the main road to the trains. Now get before they get me," Weasel says, pushing his hair back from his face.

"Thanks, Mr. Weasel," Opal says.

Weasel doesn't say anything, just winks at us and runs back to join his gang.

"What do we do now?" I whisper to Opal. She shakes her head. There's people everywhere, going to the trainyard, from the trains, people just wandering around. It's cold, and I'm shivering, just like Opal is.

"Get up, get up you lazy pieces of crap!" A Peacekeeper's kicking at some people sitting in a doorway. They don't seem to mind at all.

"They're morphlings," Opal whispers to me. There's lots of them in District 6, all over. I don't even know what morphling is, really!

"We have to get home, Opal!" I say, tugging her hand. What if the Peacekeeper comes and starts to kick us?

"Dove! Dove!"

"Cabel!" I shout back. Cabel, my big brother, pushes through the crowd and grabs me by the shoulders.

"Where were you? We've been worried sick at home, and Mum just let me go out looking for you. Father's been looking too!" he says sharply.

"We got lost, because we had to run away from the mean Peacekeeper, and a nice boy named Weasel helped us!" I say. My lip starts to wobble again. "I want to go home, Cabel."

"Let's go home," he says, taking my jump rope in one of his hands and my hand in the other. "We'll get you home and then Father can walk Opal home. Her parents are probably really worried too."

"We didn't want to be late, we just got lost!" Opal says, grinning now that we're safe. Cabel's nine, and he'll never let anything happen to us.

"Keep quiet until we reach the house," Cabel says out of the corner of his mouth, while we go by the Peacekeeper and the morphlings. They're super skinny, skinnier than anyone I've ever seen before.

It's almost completely dark by the time we get back to our street. "Mum, I found her!" Cabel calls as soon as the door is open. Mum rushes over from where she was sitting on the sofa.

"Where were you two?" she asks, patting my head and arms, then she gives me a big hug.

"I'll take Opal home," Father says, appearing out of nowhere, looking really relieved. How late were we? I look at the clock and I see that we're almost an hour late for going home. I promised Mum I'd be home an hour after school, and it's ages since then. Oops.

"See you tomorrow," I tell Opal, feeling a lot braver now that our adventure is over.

"Okay, bye," Opal says back, waving. Father steps out the door, takes her hand, and shuts the door behind her.

While Mum wraps me up on the sofa and gives me some peppermint tea, I tell her all about the gang and how nice Weasel was to help us.

"You stay away from those gangs from now on, Dove," Mum tells me.

"If she did, she wouldn't have come home," Cabel points out.

"They must have been a- a nice gang," I say, satisfied that that was what happened. A nice gang helped us.

Mum doesn't say anything, just gets up and pours a cup of tea for herself and Cabel.

"She's alright, Mum. I found her just fine," Cabel says, taking a sip from his green cup. "She was just standing in the middle of the road, safe and sound." He doesn't say anything about the morphling people.

"Good." Mum sounds firm, and she ends the talk about my adventure there. "Let's get some food into you, sweetheart."

Father walks in while I'm eating my stew, sitting next to Cabel. Opal's my best friend, but I love Cabel more than anyone in the world! Except maybe Mum and Father. But I know Cabel's always going to take care of me, and he's the best brother ever.

"Opal's home," Father says simply, taking off his coat and hanging it up on the peg by the door. "All is well."

I keep eating while Cabel and Mum tell my story again. Father looks at me sternly and only says, "You'll be more careful from now on, Dove. We don't want trouble."

"Yes, Father."

But I think about my adventure while I eat my supper, and while I have my bath, and even while I put on my nightgown a lot later. "Mum?" I ask finally.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Does Weasel have a mum that takes care of him?"

"No, sweetheart. That's why he runs with those other boys. They take care of each other," Mum says, sitting next to me and hugging me. I like it when she cuddles me; she's soft in all the best places.

"I'm happy I live here," I decide. I wouldn't want to be a boy in a gang without a mum. Or a morphling, whatever they are. I'm happy living right here with Mum and Father and Cabel.

"Me too."

The fire is nice and crackly in the stove, and it makes my feet toasty warm. "When's spring going to be here, Mum?"

"In a few months. It just turned winter, remember?"

"Oh yeah." We lit some candles and made some wishes on them. I wished that I could have a new dress, and a doll. "What did you wish for, Mum?"

Mum laughs a little. "We can't tell our wishes or they won't come true, Dove."

"Oops." I told Opal my wishes. Does that mean I won't get a doll?

Mum laughs a little. "I'll try to make your wishes come true, sweetheart. I'll try."

"Then I wish I could stay here forever and ever and ever, and never go away!" I say.

"I wish that too, I really do," Mum says, hugging me even tighter than before.

"You're squishing me!"

"Time for little girls to go to sleep, I think," Father says, coming down the stairs with my blankets. There's only two bedrooms upstairs, so Father and Mum sleep in one, Cabel sleeps in the other, and I sleep right on this couch.

Mum picks me up and holds me while Father makes the sofa into a bed, then she puts me into it. The quilts are really soft, and I'm always cozy at night. "Goodnight, Dove," Father says, kissing my forehead.

"Night!" Cabel calls as he runs upstairs in his own pajamas. Father follows close behind him.

"Goodnight, my sweet girl. Thank you for coming home," Mum says quietly, kissing me too, before going to sit in her rocking chair by the fire.

"Can you sing the lullaby?" I whisper. Mum smiles and nods, then starts to sing my favorite song, the one about flowers.

_"I give you roses and daisies to keep,_

_I give you the sunset as day grows dark._

_I give you the dove, the finch, and the lark,_

_To fly overhead and sing you to sleep._

_I give you the world and all its dreams,_

_I give you the sun and the moon._

_I give you the cardinal and the loon,_

_And the light from the moonbeams."  
_

As I start to drift off, she sings the other one, about winter.

_  
"Winter winds are blowing past_

_Autumn now beyond our grasp._

_Daughter, hold the lantern high,_

_Watch the trains as they pass by._

_Softly snow begins to drift,_

_Your presence is my favorite gift._

_Hold my hand and hold it tight,_

_I will guide you through the night._

_Sleep my child, with winter dreams_

_Trains find their way with headlight beams._

_Find your way into peaceful sleep,_

_My love for you is yours to keep."_

And, with lullabies and after an adventuring day, I fall asleep, safe in my red brick home.


	7. A Wintertide's Tale

** Oak Peacewood, Age 10 **

**_ From Phoenix Rising _**

"Long ago, there was a winter beast that roamed the forests of District 7, furred with black and white stripes, and a long swiping tail that could knock down a thousand trees with one blow."

"What happened to it?" I ask, wrapping my arms tight around my legs and rocking back and forth. Katya pulls the quilt off of our bed and wraps it around her so that I can only see her eyes.

"It gobbled up a child for breakfast, and a child for lunch, and a child for supper. And everyone in 7 hated that their children were being eaten by the handful like popcorn."

I laugh, and I can see my sister's eyes sparkle.

"So, they decided to go and hunt the beast in the woods. But only the bravest people could go, and most of the people were scared. Almost all of them, actually. For a moment they thought that the beast would never be defeated, because everyone in the district was too scared to fight it."

"But they had to defeat it, so that the kids would stop being eaten," I say, rolling over and flattening out on the rug, loving the story that Katya's telling me.

She nods, the quilt going up and down. "Somebody had to, but nobody wanted to. Until-"

"Until?"

"Until two sisters stepped forward."

"What did they look like?" I ask, grinning. Katya always puts us into her stories.

"They were ravishingly beautiful," Katya says, throwing the quilt off of her head. "With gorgeous brown eyes and matching dark hair. Everyone thought that they were the most beautiful girls in the land, and they stepped forward. 'We will kill the beast!' they cried, and everyone in the district was happy that the sisters volunteered."

"What then?" I ask, laughing again. "And ravishingly beautiful, really Katya?"

"It's a story, be quiet and listen," Katya says, and opens her mouth to go on. Unfortunately, she's interrupted.

"Katya, Oak! Come downstairs!" Mom shouts from downstairs.

"Finish the story later," I say as we both scramble to get up.

"I will. I bet it's Dad, with the tree!" Katya says, tripping over her own feet. "Come on!"

"I'm coming!"

We race down the stairs down into the living room. I love every part of my house, our beautiful house on Cherry Lane, but I love my room and the living room best I think. Or the kitchen. Or- everything!

"Who's ready to decorate the tree?" Dad asks, pushing into the house with a big pine tree dragging behind him.

"How'd you get away with bringing that home?" Katya asks, pointing at the tree. She's right, how did he? The Peacekeepers are really strict about cutting trees down to take home. Dad could have gotten in a lot of trouble!

"I was careful, I promise," Dad says, but he's grinning from ear to ear. I swear he loves Wintertide more than Katya and I do.

"Oh, Lily!" Lily, our cat, jumps onto the tree as soon as it's fully inside and starts trying to wrestle with it. I run over and pull her off, and she meows, annoyed. When she swipes at me, I put her down and she runs off to hide under something.

"Put the tree over here, Ash," Mom says, smiling too. She loves Wintertide a lot as well, but just not as much as Dad. Nobody loves it as much as Dad.

"There's so much to do," Katya says contentedly. She loves having lots of things to do, and Wintertide is the busiest time of the year in District 7. "Oak, let's go get the decorations."

I nod to my sister and follow her into the cellar, over to the crates full of strung glass, pinecones painted bright colors, carved wooden animals. We each take one and lug it upstairs, and by the time we get there, Mom and Dad have the tree propped up in a corner, in a bucket of dirt and water.

"You girls have fun with that," Dad says, pushing his hair back from his face. It's shaggy in front and hangs in front of his eyes, but he won't let Mom cut it. "I've got to finish my work."

I hate that Dad has to go into the woods on Wintertide, but we're lucky he brought us a tree at all. The Peacekeepers really keep an eye out this time of year, and taking a tree equals ten lashes and a four hour session in the stocks.

Dad loves Wintertide too much to not have a tree, though.

Mom already did her shift early this morning, so she's free to make the Wintertide cake. She's been saving sugar and dried fruit for weeks for it. So, while she bakes, Katya and I pull the decorations out of the crates and look at each one before we put it on the tree carefully.

Every ornament reminds me of one of the ten years of my life.

"Once, hundreds of winters ago," Katya begins, holding a sharp red glass ornament, made from the shards of a broken train headlight, "Before Panem ever existed, the people in the old days used to decorate trees too."

"What was the place before Panem called?" I ask, even though I know the answer. I gently hang up my birth ornament, the carved wood oak tree with my name etched on the back.

"North America," Katya says in a whisper. "And when the seas rose and the world was swallowed up by dark waters, Panem was created. The people who decorated the trees brought their traditions to District 7, and that's why we decorate trees at Wintertide."

"You tell stories well, Katya," Mom says. Katya flushes with the happy praise, but she doesn't boast about it or anything. To me, Katya is the perfect sister, the perfect person, period.

"Look, it's my birth ornament," she says, holding up a carved cat with her name on the back. Dad carved these when we were born; he has one too, and so does Mom. Theirs are a leaf and a willow sprig.

When every ornament is hung on the tree, it looks beautiful, a perfect tree for District 7. Mom comes and stands by us to admire it.

"You did a good job on it," she says, nodding in approval. My mom is the strongest person I know, and I want to be just like her when I grow up.

"The Grovepaths are going to be here in an hour, Oak, we need to get everything sorted," Katya says, tugging my arm.

"Crates downstairs, then go and get ready," Mom says. As one, Katya and I grab the boxes and hurry down the stairs, shove the crates on a shelf, and go into one of the shadowy corners that used to scare me when I was little. I'm not so scared of the dark now.

"You grab one end," she whispers, pulling out the large sheet of thin wood that we found a few months ago behind one of the mills. "I'll get the other."

Together we haul it up the stairs and lean it against the wall next to the decorated tree. It's so dark in here already, but when Mom lights the lanterns and candles tonight, everyone will be able to see what Katya and I have created.

Mostly Katya. All Katya, actually.

We rehearse and rehearse and rehearse for an hour up in our room, dancing around the crumbled quilt on the floor. "Everyone's going to love it, Katya," I tell her. She grins.

"I know."

When the streets outside are getting really dark, Dad comes home, covered in pine needles and sap, and looking tired, but really happy too.

"There's my girls!" he says, hugging us both. "Don't you look festive?"

Katya and I changed into our matching dresses; blue and white, the winter colors. I like dressing the same as my sister; I like pretending we're twins, even though she's two years older than me.

Behind Dad, there's a knock at the front door. "They're here!" I shout, dancing around my father to fling the door open wide. Standing on the other side is Mr. and Mrs. Grovepath, and Aldar, who's my best friend in the world beside Katya.

While Mom and Dad greet the grown ups, Katya and I pull Aldar over to see the tree.

"What's with the board?" he asks, pointing to the wood panel Katya and I pulled up from the cellar.

"You'll see in a minute," I tell him. "First we've got to have supper."

And we do. Supper is fantastic, the best that my mother can cook. Dad helped too, because he's best at making the beef that took ages to barter for in the Wood. Easy name to call the black market, because the Peacekeepers never know if you're talking about the forest or the place where you buy illegal things. And meat from District 10 is really hard to get.

"Thank you for having us," Mrs. Grovepath says, smiling at my mother.

"Our pleasure. Wintertide is about opening homes, isn't it? And I know the girls have something for us all," Mom says, smiling back.

"Can we start? Please?" I beg, nearly bouncing in my chair. Katya's kicking her feet in her chair next to me.

"Shall we?" Dad asks, gesturing to the living room. I'm excited for what we're about to do!

Once everyone's sitting down, Aldar included, Katya turns the panel around. All the grownups gasp, and even Aldar looks impressed. Aldar's hard to impress, too.

"Did you make that, Katya?" Mr. Grovepath asks. She nods. My sister is the best artist in District 7, I swear. This took her over a month, but she managed to get her hands on paints, and she painted a cave full of gold that really looks real, with a sleeping dragon in the middle. Snow in one corner, icicles hanging from the roof, it's beautiful.

"And now, the Peacewood sisters would like to present!" Katya says loudly, raising her arms in the air. "The Winter Dragon!"

I've been memorizing my lines for weeks, ever since Katya wrote them, and now I'm excited to say them in front of everyone. Katya starts her first part of the rhyme.

_"In a winter cave, not far away,_

_A friendly dragon wanted to play._

_When all who saw him had to flee,_

_He wondered, 'Who will play with me?'"_

Katya looks to me, and I take a deep breath before starting,

_  
"The winter dragon left his cave,_

_And all the gold he had to save._

_Up the hill and round the bend,_

_All in search of a single friend."_

Katya takes over again and recites,  
 __

_"He came upon a maiden fair,_

_With dark eyes and raven hair._

_'How beautiful you are to see,_

_Won't you come to play with me?'"_

My hands shaking a little, I recite,  
 __

_"'Oh pretty dragon, green and bright,_

_A fellow like you is a wonderful sight._

_For I have been looking, you see,_

_For a friend who wants to play with me!"_

Katya takes over again.  
 __

_"In the snow all that winter day_

_The girl and dragon got to play._

_But when the night began to fall,_

_The dragon went home, scales and all."_

I finish, happy that I've gotten all the words right.  
 __

_"And when the dragon went to sleep,_

_He had a promise he had to keep._

_'I'm so glad I got to play,_

_I said I'd go again another day!"_

Together, Katya and I cry, "The end!"

The grownups and Aldar all clap, and I feel warm from my toes to my head, I'm so happy. Katya and I bow together, holding hands tightly.

"Did you write that, Katya?" Mrs. Grovepath asks. Katya nods, and receives more praise. I get praise for remembering all my lines, and my sister looks so happy that I didn't mess up anything.

"You didn't do half bad," Aldar says, and that's the best compliment I could have gotten from him.

Mom passes out plates of Wintertide cake, and the warm feeling grows and grows. Dad tells stories about seeing deer in the woods, and Mom talks about the sawmill where she works, and all the grownups talk about grownup things while Aldar, Katya, and I play we're in a dragon cave.

"If I was a dragon, you'd play with me, right?" I ask him.

"'Course! No matter what you looked like. It's together, isn't it? Together-"

"Or not at all!" I finish.

All too soon, the Grovepaths have to go home. "I'll see you tomorrow at school," Aldar promises right before he goes out the door. I hope they'll make it home safe; the Peacekeepers like to patrol at night.

"They'll be fine, don't you worry," Dad says, watching them go, through the glass window next to the door.

"Upstairs, girls," Mom says behind us.

"Now?" I say. I want to stay up longer! It's Wintertide!

"Now."

I don't dare disobey a direct order from my Mom, so I clean my teeth and get into my nightgown, same as Katya. When we go into our room, I see that somebody's made our bed again, with the quilt nice and tidy on it.

"Climb in, I have a surprise for you," Mom says, smiling secretively from the doorway. I practically launch myself onto the bed, knocking into Katya in the process.

"Careful!" Katya scolds.

"Alright, close your eyes," Mom says. I squinch mine tight, and feel a soft package get placed into my hands. "Open."

In my hands there is a large soft package, in Katya's there is a small hard one. "Go ahead and open them, girls."

When I pull the paper away from my gift, a soft red scarf falls out onto my lap. "Thank you!" I say, wrapping the softness around my neck.

From Katya's spills a small grey box. When she opens it, a silver ring shines within, and it's beautiful.

"Thank you!" she says, slipping it onto her finger. Katya beams at Mom, and at me.

"Happy Wintertide," Mom says, leaning over and kissing us both, then takes the wrappings. "Sleep well, daughters."

"Goodnight!"

When the door closes and our lavender bedroom is dark, Katya and I roll over to face each other. "We're so lucky to get gifts," I say, folding the scarf up so it sits beside my pillow.

"We are," Katya replies happily.

"Can you finish the story you started earlier?"

"About the beast?"

"Yeah."

Katya puts on her storytelling voice. "The sisters volunteered to go into the woods to defeat the child eating beast. They each took an axe and marched into the forest with no fear at all. As long as they were together, they weren't scared of anything."

"Just like us," I whisper.

"Just like us," she agrees. "And when they found the beast, all furry and surrounded by bones, they chopped him into little pieces. All the District 7 children were saved, and the sisters went home as heroes."

"That's a good story," I tell her, then think for a second. "Do you think we'll ever get to be heroes?"

"Well, I've heard Mom and Dad talk about an uprising in Panem."

"Against the Capitol?"

"Yes! And if we rebel, then there wouldn't be Peacekeepers anymore. We'd all be free. That's what Mom said."

Free. I don't even know what that means, but I like the sound of it.

"If there is one, let's help out. We can make everyone free," I say.

"Deal," Katya replies, and we shake hands in the dark.

One day we'll make everyone free, just like Mom said, but I'm just as happy lying here next to my sister in our lavender room on Cherry Lane.

At least that will never change.


	8. A Tightly Wound Bobbin

** Terra Coppersmith, Age 10 **

**_ From The Most Dangerous Game  _**

"Iry, stop it! Come back here!"

"Catch me!" Iry calls, giggling. "Catch me!"

"I don't want to catch you; I just want to brush your hair!" I sit down on the bed, frustrated. She's not listening to me at all today, and I'd like to throw this hairbrush at the wall. I have to be patient with her, but it's hard.

Luckily she's two, and I'm faster than she is. Running after her, I scoop my little sister up and sit down with her at the table.

"Caught me!" she sings, still laughing. Iry's never sad, and that helps me not to be sad either.

"Caught you. Now sit still!" I tell her, holding her wiggly body with one arm and combing through the short curls with the other. I'm lucky she doesn't have a lot of hair yet.

When Iry wiggles just a little too much, I put her down. "There, you look okay now. Go run!"

Iry claps her hands and toddles off towards the bedroom again. I wish Father was home to help me, but he's not. He won't be home for hours, until it's dark outside; his shifts last really long at the factory. I work there a few times a week too, now that I'm ten, but most of the time I come straight home from school to look after Iry.

"Story!" she crows, toddling back into the kitchen.

"I'm busy, Iry. No story right now." I need to tidy the house and make the beds again, since Iry was bouncing on them earlier, and then figure out what I'm going to try to make for supper.

There's not a lot to choose from.

"Outside, Terra?" Iry asks, pointing to the door. Even though she's two, she doesn't talk a lot yet.

"Too snowy, munchkin," I tell her. Much, much too snowy, and it's getting worse. I wish all the snow would melt so that the train tracks would unfreeze and we could get supplies into the district. We'll all be starved to death by spring if the train can't come through.

Iry's face crumples for a second before she asks, "Where Papa?"

"At the factory." I grab one of the rags by the sink and start scrubbing the table. It's a small house, but there's always just a little bit too much for me to do. It's hard being ten and being a mother and sister in one. I don't have a choice about it, though.

Thinking about my mother makes me hurt all over. When she first died, I used to look for her everywhere, and I would have to sit down I would miss her so much. Mother, where are you?

My mother is buried in the only green place in District 8, in the cemetery across town, on the hill. Now all that's left of her are the songs she sang, my memories of her, and Iry and me. I miss her all the time, but especially today on the twenty-sixth day of December, Bobbin Day.

"Today's Bobbin Day," I tell Iry, trying to keep my voice cheerful. It's hard.

"What that?"

"The year's all wound up on its bobbin now, and it's time to take it out and put a new one in," I say. "Just like they do in the factories. And because we're all safe, we get to be thankful that the year got wound up without snags, all nice and tidy."

"Okay!" Iry says, and wanders off again. It's good for her to keep moving, she'll be warm longer; we'll run out of coal soon, and then what will happen?

I'm glad the year got wound up nice and tight this time around; two years ago the thread snapped and we couldn't put it back together, no matter how hard we tried. We needed my mother to tie the year's knot, and instead she left a frayed end behind.

Knock, knock, knock.

I throw my rag into the sink again, my hands shaking a little. I'm always scared to see who's at the door, and who would be coming to see us in the middle of a winter storm?

I take a deep breath, unlock the door, and throw it open. "Deecey!"

"Happy Bobbin Day!" Deecey says, hurrying into the house with white snowflakes covering her black braids and her jacket.

"What are you doing here?" I ask my best friend.

"Aren't you glad to see me?"

"I didn't think you'd come see me in this storm!"

"Mom couldn't come; she's still cooking, but she got a hold of a chicken and wanted me to bring you some!" Deecey pulls a paper bag that steams hot out of her deep coat pockets. "Here!"

My mouth drops open at Deecey. "A real chicken?" I whisper. Deecey nods, beaming from ear to ear. "Where'd she get it?"

"Sounds like somebody nicked it off of a Peacekeeper who's been raising them behind their barracks. Sold it to my mother for who knows how much, but she wanted to make sure you and your dad and Iry got Bobbin Day supper."

"You're the best, Deecey," I say, throwing my arms around her. She hugs me back just as tightly.

"My mother's the one who sent it, I'm only the messenger," she says, pushing the package into my hands. "And you've been cooped up with Iry for two days now; I'm here to play."

With that, Deecey shakes the snow from her head, drapes her coat over a chair, and goes off into the bedroom in search of Iry. I just stand there, open mouthed still. Chicken! A rare treat in District 8.

I'm happy to sit down for a minute and just lie my head on the table. I'm so tired, from watching Iry all day, and taking care of the house, and work and school, and everything. I wish I could just be ten, but I can't. Father depends on me to take care of things at home while he's at work. It's not his fault, it's the Capitol's, but who's going to say anything to them?

From what I can hear, Deecey's chasing Iry around the tiny bedroom; both of them are laughing, and Iry's squealing at the top of her lungs. Bless Deecey, bless Mrs. Underfall for looking after us. The paper package makes my hands warm, and it feels nice. That warmth reminds me to get up and put some more coal into the stove. Even if I'm tired, I can't let the fire go out.

I sit by the stove and warm my hands for a while, while Deecey and Iry play in the bedroom together. It's starting to get darker out when my best friend finally comes out, looking tired but happy.

"I think I wore her out," Deecey says. I jump up and hug her again.

"Thank you," I whisper.

"Mother's going to be expecting me at home pretty soon, so I should go," she says, pulling her coat on. "I'll see you at school when we can get there again."

"Thank you. Thank you so much!" I tell her over and over. Deecey, the best friend I could ever have, hugs me again and opens the door.

"Look! It's not snowing!" she says, pointing up at the sky. She's right; you can even see some of the sunset over the district, which you don't get to see very often. "Even the sky knows it's Bobbin Day."

"It's perfect," I say, looking up at the bright pinks and purples the sky is being painted. "Just perfect."

Deecey gives me a thumbs up and, with a wave, she's gone.

Father comes home in the dark, dirty and tired.

"Happy Bobbin Day!" I say as happily as I can; I'm tired too. Iry runs at him and pulls on his pant leg, and he smiles down at her.

"Hello Terra, hello Iry," he says softly, like he always does. My father is not a loud man at all.

"Guess what we have for supper?" I say, and before he can guess I tell him all about Deecey's visit.

"We will have to return this gift in kind," Father says, smiling tiredly at the food I've placed on our best blue plates. One has a chip in the side, but it's still pretty, full of chicken, bread, and pickled beets I found at the back of the cupboard.

I think it's the best supper I've had in a long time.

"How was your day?" I ask Father.

"Long, Terra. So very long."

"You look tired."

"I am, very," he replies. But he holds his arms out, beckoning me to come to him. When I do, he folds me into one of his bear hugs.

"Thank you for doing this at home, for taking care of everything," he whispers in my ear.

"It's nothing," I say, but he shakes his head.

"It's everything, Terra. And I'm sorry that you don't have the chance to be ten, a proper ten."

"I'll manage." And I will. I don't have a choice.

Father smiles. "You're like your mother; she never complained either." My heart swells at the praise, at the thought that I'm like Mother.

"I miss her," I whisper. Father ruffles my hair.

"I do too. But we'll manage, won't we Iry?" he asks, turning to my sister, who's holding a fist full of bread.

"Yes!" she cheers, throwing her arms in the air, making both Father and I laugh.

"And don't worry, Father," I tell him, "It won't be long before I'm able to take out tesserae, and things will get better." I've been thinking about that a lot lately.

His face drops. "No, Terra. No daughter of mine will ever take out tesserae, not if I can help it. No food or supplies is worth trading your safety for."

No tesserae? Then things will always stay the same, and we'll always be hungry and cold. Swiftly, he changes the subject, while I'm still reeling.

"I have gifts for both of you," he says, getting up and going into the bedroom. When he comes out, he's holding two small things in his hands.

"For you, Terra," he says, handing me something soft. When I pull it open, I see the scarf, and I recognize the pattern; white irises against a red background. This belonged to my mother once.

Father nods to me and then says, "And for Iry." Iry holds out a chubby hand and Father dangles something from a chain into it. I recognize that too; Mother's wedding ring.

"I'll keep it safe for you until you can wear it," he tells her, "But I wanted you to each have something of your mother this year."

"Thank you," I whisper, holding the scarf tight in my hands. My mother wore this scarf, I remember her wearing it, and it's like having a piece of her with me. "Thank you."

Iry drops the ring onto the floor to finish her bread, making Father retrieve it. "Once she's done, off to bed with both of you. It's late; I'm sorry I got home so late."

"It's okay. I'm tired too."

When Iry's done, I wash her face and brush her teeth and get her into her nightgown, before I do the same for me. The world is pitch black outside the bedroom window that Father put in this summer.

"Iry, look! A star!" I say, pointing up at the dot of light that shines against the black night. "Make a wish!"

"Why?"

"Because when you make a wish on the first star, it will come true!" I close my eyes and wish, wish with all my heart.

_Make the trains come through soon._

Iry squinches her eyes shut and whispers something. "There! Wished!"

"Then it will come true as long as you don't tell anyone!" I tell her, pulling her down into the little bed we share. Father sleeps against the other wall, in his bed, but he'll be in in a while.

"Goodnight, Iry," I whisper. I liked this Bobbin Day, liked it a lot. And I'm so happy to have Iry, even though she's a pain sometimes, and it's hard looking after her. I love her so much, more than anyone else. But I love Father too, and Deecey, and Mrs. Underfall. I'm lucky to have people to love.

"Night night, Terra," my sister whispers, and we both fall into sleep.


	9. Snowdrops

** Catalina Nightwind, Age 7 **

**_ From The Most Dangerous Game _**

"It is an honor to be in your district, and to have such a warm welcome as I have had. Thank you for the children you offered up in tribute; your sacrifice will not be forgotten." The girl with light blonde hair standing on the stage stops for breath, and I can see her hands shaking a little.

"Why's she nervous?" I whisper to Challah.

"She's the victor," she whispers back, before Father gives us both a look. We shouldn't be talking, but I'm curious, always curious. That's what Edel says, anyway.

"Thank you for having me, District 9. It's been an honor," the new victor says, and nods to us all. She looks pretty and nice.

The lady from the Capitol is new this year, and she has a funny name: Miri Pola. She steps forward and calls out, "Let's hear a round of applause for Shuttle Caries, District 8's newest victor!"

I clap as hard as I can. I like this victor, and she's really pretty and nice. Not many other people are clapping, though. I wonder why.

"Let's go home," Father says, holding his hand out to me.

"Already? What about the victor?" I ask.

"Our part in her visit is over. Let's go, Cat."

I grab his hand, but I look back at the pretty victor until I can't see her anymore because there are too many tall people in the way. "But why do we have to go so soon?" I ask, swinging my arm back and forth.

"We have to get ready for tonight, remember?"

"What's tonight, again?"

"We're going to be thankful," Lavender says, a little crossly. "We got lucky this year, and we're going to celebrate that."

I like being lucky. I feel lucky that we don't have school or work today, and we can all just stay home together!

"It's too snowy," Lavender complains. "My feet hurt."

"Mine don't," I say.

"Your shoes don't have holes in them."

"We'll get them mended soon," Mother says, but she looks worried. There's a lot of things to spend money on: the rent and food, and there's not a lot left over to get shoes mended. I'd give Lav mine, but my feet are a lot smaller than hers.

I pull my hand away from Father's and call to Challah, "Race you!"

"Cat, don't you run; it's too icy out," Edel scolds.

"It's not that icy!"

"Cat!"

"Fine," I say, and walk the rest of the way home. It's not as much fun, though.

As soon as we walk in the door, Edel and Mother throw on their aprons and start making the stew for tonight's supper. "What are you going to put in?" I ask, hovering around them.

"Potatoes, some grain, and every vegetable I could find in the district," Mother says, tying the apron strings behind her.

"Can I help?" I love helping, even though I'm the smallest. I hardly ever grow.

"You can help me by going with Challah to get the coal from the depot," Mother says.

"What's Father going to do?"

"He's going to get the snow off the roof before it collapses."

"Come on, Cat," Challah says, grabbing the coal pail from beside the stove.

"Do you have the trade for the coal?" Mother asks, and Challah nods.

"Cat can carry the ash bag."

"Why do they want coal ash, again?" I ask.

"They put it in concrete," Mother answers.

"Come on, Cat," Challah says again, and this time I follow her out the door, grabbing the heavy ash bag on my way out.

"I hope it snows more!" I say, looking up at the sky. It's clear, so I don't think it's going to anytime soon, but I can hope!

"Me too," Challah says, swinging the bucket. "Here, let's trade." I'm happy to give her the bag and take the empty coal bucket instead. "What do you think of the victor this year?"

"I think she was really pretty and nice. Why didn't anyone else like her?"

"Because she isn't from here. She won, which means our tributes didn't."

"Oh."

"You'll start watching the Games next year," Challah says. "Then you'll understand why kids go away and don't come back."

"Like every year when we have to stand in the square?"

"Exactly. And that's why we're thankful tonight; because Edel and Lavender didn't get chosen."

"We're lucky, right?"

"Absolutely. Next year I'll be twelve, and then I might get chosen. With three of us in the bowl, we'll have to be really lucky."

"I hope none of us have to go away," I say, throwing my arms around my sister and accidentally knocking her side with the bucket.

"Me too, but we have to hurry to the coal depot before we're late getting home." This time Challah and I get to run, and we race all the way to the depot, both of us swinging our bucket and bag.

The coal depot is by the train tracks, on the other side of the fence. Every time I come here I wonder where the trains go, and where they come from, and what the other districts look like. Shuttle, the victor, is lucky because she gets to see every single district on her tour!

But the coal depot makes me shrink inside, just because of the Peacekeepers that guard the doors. I'm scared of them, especially because they carry those awful looking guns. I don't like the fence much either; Edel told me once that it's thirty feet high and full of electricity, so that nobody can get on the trains if they're not supposed to.

Challah pretends she's not afraid, even though I know she is. "Come on, let's get in line before everyone else gets here," she says, grabbing my free hand and pulling me over to the scales.

"Back already?" Silas Overgreen asks, standing behind the counter that the scales sit on. He's one of the taller men in District 9, I think. Taller than my father, even.

"Coal goes fast," Challah says, taking the bag of ash from me; she holds it up so Silas can see. "Ash to trade."

"Put it on the counter," Silas says, helping Challah when she has trouble lifting the bag high enough. Silas empties the whole bag of dark grey ash onto one side of the scale; the dust makes me cough. It must be awful living in District 12, because that's where the coal comes from!

"I'll give you a three-quarter pail for this much ash," Silas says, balancing the scales with his hand.

"But we need a full pail!" Challah protests. I don't say anything, just watch the Peacekeepers nearby scan the depot. Maybe I'm small enough that they won't notice me.

"Rules are rules, child," Silas says, shrugging. "Coal ash doesn't go for a lot, and it takes more to bring the coal here than it does to send the ash out. Take it or leave it."

"I'll take it." Challah doesn't look happy about it, though. Silas whistles to one of the apprentices and makes some sort of signal with his hands. The apprentice digs into the pile of coal at the back of the depot and brings the shovel full over, dumping it into the scale. Silas balances it again, takes a few chunks out, then holds his hand out.

"Bucket." I pass Silas the bucket and wait while he pushes all the coal on the scale into it with an awful clanking.

"Don't burn that all in one sitting," he tells Challah.

"I won't," she replies, then she grabs the ash bag back, hands it to me, and we leave the depot together, avoiding the eyes of the Peacekeepers.

"Challah, look! A snowdrop!" I cry, running over to a little hill of snow. The white flower looks like a tiny dress, and it's so pretty.

"That's special," Challah says, setting the heavy coal bucket down. "Snowdrops are spring flowers."

"Can I pick it?"

"Sure, then we can put it on the table for supper."

Carefully, I pull the flower from the ground and hold it tight, so that I don't drop it. "Let's get home fast; my hand hurts," Challah says. I don't mind going home now, now that I have my snowdrop.

We're halfway home when she points out, "Look, it's the victor again. Guess she's having her tour."

The pretty victor, with the blonde hair and big eyes, is walking alongside the mayor. I wonder what he's showing her. Probably the grain fields, empty right now because of the snow. And possibly the coal depot, and the factories for threshing and- everything in District 9!

"She looks sad," I say, stopping to watch the victor.

"She just won the Games, she probably is," Challah replies.

"But she won!"

Challah sighs. "Bad things happen in the arena, Cat. Things you won't understand yet."

"I don't want her to be sad," I say, letting the ash bag dangle into the snow. What can I do to make her not sad?

"Not much you can do. Come on, let's go home, it's cold."

Suddenly, I have an idea. "Wait a moment!" I tell Challah, and I sprint off towards Shuttle the victor.

"Cat!" Challah calls after me, but I don't want to listen right now. I have an idea! I don't stop running until I skid to a stop right in front of the mayor and the victor, and then my voice disappears.

"Yes, what do you want, child?" the mayor asks, looking down at me. Shuttle looks at me too, but she seems nicer than the mayor. But she looks sad!

"Here, here's a gift from District 9," I say, holding the snowdrop out to Shuttle. "I'm glad you got to win, and I'm sorry you're sad."

Shuttle pauses for a second, then takes the flower from me. And she smiles! "Thank you," she says quietly. She's not much older than Edel, I don't think. I wonder what happened to her.

"Run along, girl," the mayor says.

"Bye," I tell Shuttle with a wave, and she waves back! She's not sad anymore, so I run back to Challah, the ash bag flapping in the breeze next to me.

"What were you thinking?" Challah asks once I get back to her.

"I wanted to make her happy, and I did!"

Challah looks at Shuttle, then back to me. "You did. That was really nice, Cat."

"Let's go home now," I say, and this time we walk all the way back to the house, no running at all.

At supper, the house is warm and it smells good, and the stew tastes wonderful. I'm still so happy that Shuttle liked the flower, and wasn't sad anymore when I gave it to her. Challah didn't tell Mother or Father, and I won't either. It's our little secret.

"We have been lucky this year," Father says, tapping his glass. "My daughters were spared the arena, and we are all together. That's all that matters in this world, that we stay together. And may we stay together for all the years going forward."

"Here, here," Lavender says, raising her glass high.

I don't really understand the Hunger Games yet, but maybe next year I will, when I get to watch them for the first time. Then maybe I'll understand why we have the reapings, and why they made Shuttle Caries so sad.

I can't imagine any of us being in them, though! That's what Father says, staying together is the most important thing in the world.

We'll always be together, I know it.


	10. A Midwinter Night's Rebellion

** Osa Bellock, Age 10 **

**_ From Phoenix Rising _**

"Hit 'em, Osa!"

I squint my eyes, adjust the rock in my hand, then throw it as hard as I can at the Peacekeeper standing next to the big brown slaughterhouse.

"Cooee, we don't want you here!" I shout. The Peacekeeper looks over at us, and I can tell he's glaring even though he's wearing a helmet. "Bram, let's go."

"One more hit," Bram says, grabbing another rock from the ground. "Go back to the Capitol, scum!" His rock hits the 'Keeper right on his helmet. Just as the 'Keeper starts to raise his gun, Bram and I take off, dodging the bullets that fire around us.

"Over here!" Bram calls, running towards Barn 17. I dive, rolling to a stop on the barn's far side, where nobody can see us, only the field hands out with the cattle. They don't care about a couple of kids, though.

"Can't shoot for anything, can they?" I say, sitting up and brushing dirt off my pants.

"Nope!" Bram says cheerfully. "You ready for tonight?"

"I was born ready."

"That's the spirit!" Bram gets up and peers around the side of the barn. "Coast's clear, let's get back to headquarters."

Nobody notices two kids walking together through District 10; they wouldn't in normal times, but these aren't normal times at all.

Finally, we're fed up with the Capitol interfering with how we run our district; how they whip us and kill us and do whatever they want to us, just because we're district and they're snooty city folk. Well we're not going to stand for it anymore!

We're rebelling, and soon everyone's going to rebel and make the Capitol mind its own business for once.

"Down here," Bram says quietly.

"I think I might know where we're going," I reply sarcastically, but I follow my friend down into what looks like a cellar to the Peacekeepers.

Welcome to rebellion headquarters.

"Get in here, we're getting a message in from 13," Dess says, grabbing my arm and pulling me into the dark room at the bottom of the stairs.

Over on the far wall, Cracie Kieper, our leader here in 10, is fiddling with the ancient radio that might be from before Panem was even created, a couple hundred years ago. The room's half full; the others must be out getting things ready for tonight. I'm the youngest, but nobody's held it against me yet; we need all the hands we can get.

The staticky sound coming out from Old Boomer, the radio, is deafening; with Cracie's careful tuning, slowly I can make out words, until the person on the other end is talking clear as a bell.

"Greetings, District 10," the man on the other end says. Don't know his name, doubt I ever will, but he's in charge of this whole rebellion shebang. 13 started it, now we're all going to help finish it, no matter how long it takes.

"District 13," Cracie says respectfully as the rest of us crowd around her; probably twenty or twenty-five of us at the moment. We'll get more people eventually; this is just the start. Plus half are out doing war things.

"District 7 has joined the rebellion," the man says; we all cheer. That makes three districts rebelling! We'll get the rest, and then the Capitol will be sorry. "7 has joined, and we are confident that 8 and 11 will follow suit shortly."

"Who's our contact in 7?" Cracie asks.

"She'll be in touch with you in the next two days. Code name Heaven."

"Plans to go ahead are following through," Cracie says, nodding at the radio even though 13's leader can't see her.

"Home, loco, barrack," 13 replies. I've spent enough time down here with Cracie to know what the code words mean.

Justice Building, Train Station, Barracks.

"Fulfilled at 20," Cracie says.

"Odds in your favor, Crane."

"To you as well."

With that, the radio turns off and goes straight back to static. Cracie turns to us and says, "You heard the man. Home, loco, barrack, fulfill at 20."

There's a low mutter of agreement from around the room, before everyone goes off to do their own things. There are maps to fill out, orders to put in, missions to arrange. We need everyone to cooperate if we're going to win this war.

"Osa, let me talk to you," Cracie says, waving me over. Cracie, wanting to talk to me? What did I do?

"General Kieper," I say snapping to attention.

"Stop that, Osa."

"Yes'm."

Cracie sighs, but continues on. "Going to be dangerous tonight; maybe you should sit it out here."

"Cracie!" I say, horrified. Stay here while the first big act goes out? Not likely!

"It's wonderful that you want to help, but you're ten, Osa."

"Bira's going and she's twelve. Not much of a difference."

"Osa, I just think it would be best-"

"Cracie, I don't have anyone waiting up for me at home. I don't have anyone but the rebellion, and I'm going to help every way I can. I know you can make me stay, cause you're the general, but I promise you that I'd be as much help to you as Mayne Riddle."

Mayne's six foot nothing and strong as an ox. I might be below five feet, and I might be ten, but I can haul whatever they need and I can do whatever they ask me to do. I want to get the Peacekeepers back for everything they've done, and I can't just sit here while the others do it for me!

The Peacekeepers killed my Mam; I want them dead in payback.

Cracie sighs again. "Fine, Osa, you can come, but you'll be careful, won't you? I don't want to see you die tonight."

"You can count on me being alive and well once the mission has completed," I say, snapping to another salute. Cracie laughs.

"You're a good girl, Osa."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Just call me Cracie, girl; everyone else does."

"Yes'm Cracie."

Cracie pats me on the head, then goes off to look at maps or something else that's more pressing than a ten year old rebel. She's letting me go; that's all that matters.

"Osa, you coming tonight?" Egg asks, coming over and sitting on the table next to me. Her real name's Eglantine, but we all just call her Egg.

"Bet on it; wouldn't miss it," I tell her.

"You'll be hidden nice tonight; they won't be able to see you in the dark," Egg says, poking my cheek. It's good to be dark skinned when you're a rebel; I'm an excellent night spy. "Want me to do your hair so it doesn't get tangled?"

"Sure."

Egg sits me down in front of her while she braids my hair and pins it up on top of my head. "You take care of these pins; they were my mama's," she tells me.

"Why're you giving them to me, then?"

"'Cause you need 'em more than me, and you're cute as a button," Egg says, giving me a hug round the middle.

"I'm not cute; I'm intimidating," I tell her.

"As intimidating as a kitten, doll. Don't you worry; by the end of this war you'll be a proper warrior."

 _I better be_ , I think, grumbling a bit to myself. I don't want to be a kitten, I want to be a wildcat!

"You're all good now, kitten. We're going to have some fun tonight, I tell you," Egg says, pats me on the head again, and wanders away, like Cracie did. I just sit on the edge of the table and watch everyone come and go, moving smoothly like a machine.

"Snowing out, just so you know," Mas says, coming down the stairs and into the cellar.

"Crap, that'll make it harder if we're slipping all over the place," Five says from where she's sitting beside Cracie.

"Got the places staked, all we have to do is lug the stuff there and push the button," Mas continues, grinning from ear to ear, like he's a kid and not a grown up man.

"Wait for 20; they'll never know what hit them," Cracie says, slamming her fist down onto her map with a very satisfied look on her face.

I know that 20 means we'll be going out late tonight; I'm not going to be tired; I'm not! I'm a rebel now, and rebels don't get tired. I curl up in a corner anyway, until someone throws a bun my way. Food's hard to get in 10, 'cause the Peacekeepers don't let us have a lot. That'll change when we get rid of the 'Keepers once and for all!

After eating, I must drift off a little, because the next thing I know there's yelling and a whole lot of commotion.

"Egg, Reese, Jemma, you're with Keeting," Cracie shouts. "Let's go, get in your groups, and don't let them see you!"

I get up and run over to where Egg is; she won't mind if I follow along with her. She notices me after a second and grins down at me. "Ready, button?"

I nod. "Well let's go then."

One group at a time, we slip out of the cellar and up into the snowy night. It's cold, way cold for this time of year. Guess it must have turned winter when I wasn't looking. "C'mon, this way," Keeting hisses, leading the way towards Barn 23.

The cows are quiet inside, but they look at us with big, solemn eyes. I've always liked the cows, but tonight I'm not going to have time to scratch them behind the ears. I'm on a winter mission.

"Each of you, get one, but don't you press that button," Keeting hisses, digging in a straw pile to my left. He hands each of us a heavy circular pad; mine weighs a ton. I look at it carefully, while Egg gets hers, and I realize what it is.

It's a bomb.

"Let's go, let's go! C Squad's going to meet us at Home, let's go!" Keeting insists, and runs out of the barn, the rest of us on his heels.

It's a short run to the Justice Building, where Keeting waves us towards the base. I can see a couple shapes that look like collapsed Peacekeepers; somebody already took them out I guess. This bomb is heavy, but I'm not going to complain. I'm a rebel, and I'm helping bring the Capitol down, one bomb at a time.

"Put it here, Osa," Keeting says, pointing to a spot that's been dug out right by the foundation. Egg puts hers nearby mine, and I can see a couple other squads doing the same thing we're doing.

"Let's get, before the 'Keepers cotton on," Reese says, patting the dirt down around the bomb he set in.

"C'mon, button," Egg says, grabbing my hand.

"I can run by myself," I mutter.

"'Course you can. Let's go."

We only run a distance away, into one of the dark abandoned houses across the street from the Justice Building.

"Squad C, are you clear?" Keeting says into a small radio.

"Clear," comes the reply.

"Is Home clear?"

"All clear."

"Send it off then," Keeting says, and even though I can't see him in the dark, I think he's smiling.

"Here goes nothing," Jemma whispers.

"Back from the windows, all of you!" Keeting says, and just as we back up, the explosion goes off, sending the Justice Building straight to the next world.

Egg and Reese whoop. "Home is sky high; I repeat, Home is sky high!" Keeting crows into the radio, and I hear whooping and more explosions on the other side.

"Loco sky high!"

"Barracks sky high!"

"First flown mission's been a success," Keeting says, looking back at all of us.

"Better get before the 'Keepers come in," Egg says.

"Let's head," Keeting agrees, leading us out the back door, and off towards headquarters again.

The sky is alight with flames and sparks, and it's beautiful against the falling snow. I'm Osa Bellock, I'm ten years old, and I'm the youngest rebel in District 10.

If this is how the winter starts, then it can only get better from here, don't you think?


	11. Warm Winter Hope

** Nell Slatefield, Age 9 **

**_ From More than Chance _**

_"Oh sing out the praises to the sky and the earth,_

_Oh sing out the joy within._

_Children, sing the wonder in your hearts_

_Oh sing when you see the world."_

I'm not singing because there's wonder in the world; I'm singing because the time goes way faster when I do. And I want time to go by fast today; I don't want to sit up here and pick fruit until dark!

That's the bad thing about 11; the fruit's always getting ripe, and when the fruit's ripe we have to pick it!

"You going to dawdle all day, or are you going to actually pick?" Linny asks from a couple branches over.

"What do you think I'm doing? I'm not exactly doing a dance, Linny," I say back, picking another couple plums from the leaves above me, then dropping them into the bucket tied to my side. See, I don't mind being up here so high; I like it actually! The Peacekeepers can't see me when I'm this high up, and that's a good thing.

Sometimes you want to have a bit of a break, and if the Peacekeepers can't see you, they can't whip you, now can they?

The whole orchard is full of my neighbors from down in the Roots, and it's fun to have everyone out, but it's a lot more satisfying to see the girls from in the Branches come down and climb the trees. Shoes don't suit them well then, and it's funny.

It's not as funny to hear the whip cracking and the Peacekeepers hollering down below, though. That's the part I don't like one bit. Quit whipping us and we'll work harder, if you ask me.

The first song's faded out, so I open my mouth up and start a new one, my favorite one. It's awfully mournful, but I love it anyways.

_  
"Roses, roses, roses,_

_Lavender intertwine._

_Lilies, lilies, lilies,_

_Will be yours when you are mine._

_I will give you silver,_

_Frost from the very earth._

_I will give you rings of gold,_

_Flowers for our child's birth._

_Apples, apples, apples,_

_Fruit from the top of the tree._

_Love, I'll give you the world,_

_When you're by my side with me._

_Light, light, light,_

_Colors across the sky._

_I will mourn forever, love,_

_When the time comes to say goodbye._

_Daisies, Daisies, Daisies,_

_Upon my true love's breast._

_I will meet you again, love,_

_When I too go to rest."  
_

I grin when the whole orchard comes alive with the mockingjays' whistles, repeating the melody back. This is why I love this song best; it's so pretty when the birds sing it back to me. Like a whole world of color just floating on the air.

Quick as a bird's wing I lower my bucket to where the catchers down below are waiting. "Sing less, Nell. You're burning daylight!"

"Can't help it, Jeptha! Maybe if you'd sing a bit more I wouldn't have to pick up your slack!"

"Keep burning that daylight like a cheap candle, and we'll be here all night. Pick it up!"

"Quit being such a groosling!" I call down, grinning at the insult. I can't see Jeptha, but I know it's annoyed him just a little, and that's good enough for me. Before he can yell at me, I pull my bucket back up and start loading more plums into it. I hate to admit that Jeptha's right, but he is, just a little. I don't want to be up here all night, no sir! So I just keep my eyes on the branches and pick and pick and pick, 'til the tree's empty and I can come down.

"When's quitting time?" I ask once I get down.

"'Bout an hour to sunset, so you'd better pick quick if we're going to fill this quota," Jeptha says, taking my bucket and loading it into the big container on the back of the tractor.

"Why're you telling me that; what about everyone else?"

"You get distracted way too easily, Nell. Nobody else is going to get lost singing to the birds."

"Everyone else sings."

"They pick too, Nell. Get up the next tree and don't you open your mouth until it's picked through. You hear me?" Jeptha asks, raising an eyebrow at me. I roll my eyes back at him.

"Trying to keep me from talking is like trying to stop the sun from setting, Jeptha."

"Get on with you! Now!" I duck the blow the Peacekeeper deals at me; his baton barely misses my head. I'd like to cheek him something awful, but Aunt Ruth would kill me worse than the Peacekeeper could. She's told me for years not to sass the Peacekeepers, and I'm more scared of her than of any of these stupid helmeted guys.

"Bye Jeptha!" I chirp, before running to another tree, where I see Linny going up a ladder. Who needs ladders? I can climb a tree just by myself, thank you very much. Drives Aunt and Rosa crazy, but you have to have a bit of fun in life, don't you agree?

For once I listen to Jeptha and keep my mouth quiet, but it's hard. Whistling isn't opening my mouth, though, so I have a bit of a duet going with one of the mockingjays nesting in the tree above me. I whistle, she whistles back, and I pick and pick and pick until this tree is bare too. And just in time, 'cause the birds start doing their funny whistle they do when it's quitting time. Six shrill notes, two low ones; somebody's set them off and now they're our quitting alarms.

"Here you go, Jeptha," I say, holding out my final bucket.

"Can't believe you actually listened for once," he says, dumping my bucket into the tractor back.

"One time thing, Jep," I tell him, taking my bucket back. He doesn't laugh or smile or anything, just looks really stern.

"Bright and early tomorrow, Nell. And quit the funny stuff."

"I might as well stop breathing. No, as long as I'm going, I'm going to have myself some fun."

"Get out of the way, girl!" The other pickers behind me sound impatient, so I better skedaddle before they get me.

"You're the most insufferable nine year old I've ever met," Jeptha calls after me.

"Thank you!" I shout back, turn a cartwheel, and take off for home.

I get in at the very same time as Aunt and Rosa. "What's for supper?" I ask as soon as I get in the door and plunk my bucket down in the corner.

"What do you think, Nell?" Rosa snaps at me. Irritable older cousin, that's what she is. She's ten, but she acts like she's the same age as Aunt. Or older!

"I think we're going to have ourselves a good slab of meat, straight from District 10," I say, slumping down in one of the kitchen chairs.

"And where are we going to get said meat, Eleanor?" Aunt asks dryly. "When you find some, let me know, because that will be the day Rosa flies to the Capitol."

"I'll start looking, 'cause I want to see that. Rosa, you better get your wings on," I say, grinning at my cousin. Oh, I love to rile her!

Uncle walks in just then, looking tired after a long day working. " Pay day tomorrow," he says quietly; he doesn't raise his voice, not ever. That's fine with me; Aunt and I can do the talking for him. And doubly!

"About time; we're low on everything," Aunt says, slamming the one pot we have.

"Still got some potatoes," Rosa points out, rummaging through a bag.

"And some bread. Lean meal tonight, I'm afraid," Aunt says, holding up the last of the loaves she made a few days ago. It's only a half loaf; I could eat that all by myself. I should eat some of the fruit I pick tomorrow; the Peacekeepers will never know. Maybe I can throw pits at them.

One day, I'm going to make sure everyone in the Roots gets enough to eat, like Seeder did a few years ago when she won the Hunger Games. Not that I'd like to compete in them, no sir! But maybe I can be clever enough to get some meat from 10, and then I can see Rosa fly all the way to the Capitol.

Wouldn't that be satisfying?

Turns out, potatoes and staling bread don't fill you up very well. Empty night tonight, where my stomach is going to growl and keep Rosa up all night. I'm okay with that; she hogs the blankets anyway. 11 might be hot during the day, but it's awfully cold at night, I tell you.

"Better have something more tomorrow," I say, swallowing down the last of my bread. The top was too crunchy, and now I'm covered in crumbs.

"We'll be happy for what we have, and not want more than that," Aunt says staunchly. I know she wants something better to eat too, but she won't say that, not on her life.

"Well I want something other than potatoes and bread," I declare, leaning forward and resting my head on the table.

"Sit up Nell and quit acting the fool. I'll get some grain tomorrow, and some more vegetables, and I'll make a soup."

"Soup doesn't fill you up!" Not the way Aunt makes it, anyway.

"Then I think you ought to find another solution, Eleanor." Aunt's voice is icy, and by the look in her eyes, I've gone too far. Thank goodness for Uncle.

"Ruth, she's nine and worked a long day's work. Let her be." I beam at my uncle, but he looks stern anyway.

"Don't let me hear your complaints again," Aunt warns me, "Complaining gets you nowhere in life, 'cause nobody wants to hear it. You understand?"

"Yes Aunt." I glare at Rosa, the perfect girl, who never complains. I'll complain to myself.

Things would be so different if Mamma hadn't died when I was four. She'd listen to me complain, and she wouldn't tell me to be quiet either. Mamma would have liked me, up and down and every which way. And even though Aunt's really nice to me, she's too annoyed with me for her own good.

At least I know that I'm Uncle's favorite, even if he'll never say so.

"Come here, let me tell you two a story," Uncle says, getting up and going near the fire. Rosa and I both get up and follow him, sitting down on the warm hearth. Outside I can hear the Peacekeepers shouting, but it doesn't matter to me right now.

"Curfew! Get in, curfew!"

We're already inside, so we don't have to pay any attention to the Peacekeepers. I focus completely on my uncle, and the story he's about to tell.

"You hear me that Panem wasn't always Panem, don't you?" he begins. "Once, in a time before any of us here in the Roots could reckon, Panem was another world, full of snow and trees. Now the people who lived in the Before truly loved these trees, and once a year they'd bring them inside and dress them up with jewels and candles."

"Why'd the Before people dress the trees up? Didn't they think that was silly?" Rosa asks.

"They wanted the trees to look their best for just one night, when they gave each other gifts."

"What for?" I ask. There's celebration times down here in the Roots, but nobody needs a fancy tree to give a gift.

Uncle shrugs. "They thought the trees were magical, all dressed in jewels and candles. And not a single house burned down because of the candles. Maybe they were magic."

"Oh you hush; no such thing as magic," Aunt says, but she says it good-naturedly.

"There is; how else would the birds know how to sing our songs?" I say.

"Magic didn't go away when Panem rose from the Before's ashes; it changed and became the birds, like you said, Nell. Magic turned the terrible things of the rebellion upside down and made the mockingjays. And just you remember, you two-"

Uncle pauses and Rosa and I lean forward. "What?" I whisper.

He leans forward too and whispers, "Just like the mockingjays were created by good magic, so will the districts be free one day, with that same magic. Want to know what that magic is?"

We both nod.

"Hope. Girls, the world runs on hope; hope that next year will be better, that the crops will thrive, that the birds will sing. That trees will shine with jewels year after year. Hope makes the world go round, and don't you ever forget that, girls."

"I won't," I say, and I mean it too. Uncle doesn't say a lot, but when he does say something it's important. I'm going to think about hope for the rest of my life.

"You two get into bed," Aunt says, breaking the story spell at last. "Early morning tomorrow."

"Like always," I mutter, but I follow the good girl Rosa over to the big bed, and help her pull out our little trundle bed. It's not warm, and it's not very comfortable, but it's better than the bare dirt floor, don't you think.

"Sleep well, girls," Aunt says, giving us a rare smile.

"Night!" we chorus back, trying to huddle under the sparse blankets while not kicking each other. Luckily, Rosa settles down right away, but I stare into space for a long time, even though I'm tired.

Just got to have hope; Uncle's right. And that magic's going to make the world go round.


	12. Behind the Window

** Aldera Commonsand, Age 8 **

**_ From Phoenix Rising _**

"Are you comfortable, sweetheart?"

"Yes, Mama."

My mother looks at me like she looks at nobody else in the world: like I'm the best thing in it. It's just one of the reasons why I love my mother.

"I have to go downstairs and look after the shop, Dera. You'll be alright, I know."

I smile, even though I don't really feel like it. "Of course, Mama."

With one last smile from my mother, she sweeps out the door and down the grey wooden stairs.

See, I've had a lot of practice being up in my room, and I stopped minding it after a while. I'm always sick, so I'm always in bed. There're worse things than being tucked up in my bed with the blue quilt and the coal filled heater by my feet, and my cat by my side. And then there's the window, my way of seeing the world.

I sit up and cough; this cough hurts all through my chest. Mama says it's just the cold, because I get it every year. In winter I get the cough, in summer I get fevers or spots or something else. Papa's a cloth merchant, so he can afford medicine for me, which is really lucky. I overheard Mama say that I've almost died four times since I was a baby. I was really early, so maybe that's why I'm sick now.

The cough stops, letting me push the curtains back from the window. From here, I can see all of District 12; it's not pretty, but it's my home. I don't get to leave the house much, so I like to make up stories for the people down below. I don't know them, but Papa and Mama might. Maybe the people buy cloth from our shop!

There's the old grey schoolhouse, with the pretty young teacher. I decided a long time ago that her name must be Rosalina Cordwine, because it's a pretty name for her. The really skinny boy who's always first is Tommen Lazario; the girl with black braids is Valentine Garerro.

I like to think of them as my friends, even though I've never met them. Mama says I'm fragile, and doesn't let me go to school either. I have my cousins to play with sometimes, when I'm not sick, but a lot of the time it's just me and Mama. She teaches me the writing and figuring I'll need when I start working in the shop. Hopefully one day!

A flicker of white drifts past my window. Snow! I cough again while getting onto my knees; Darling, my kitty, makes a mad noise because she's being moved.

"Sorry, Darling," I tell her. She's all black, except for her nose, which is white. She blinks slowly at me, so I think she understands.

Carefully, I unlatch the window, and push it open so that the cold air rushes in. It tickles my face; isn't it wonderful? My fingers tingle just feeling it. Having the window open makes it easier to see out, too; the outside of the panes are coal dusted, like everything else. Even the snow on the ground.

Off in the distance, I can see the miners going to work in their overalls. I can't see them very well, but I think they're sad. They can't go outside much, just like me, so I know how they feel. I can't imagine what it must be like down in those coal mines. I think I'd hate it.

Nobody's watching me down below; who would, anyway? Nobody ever notices me, a little blonde haired girl who never leaves the house. Hardly anyone knows I'm up here.

"It's the coal dust," Papa says sometimes, when somebody actually does see me and asks about me. "The coal dust hurts her lungs."

"The best thing would be to move her to another district." He says that too. How would I move, though? Nobody's allowed out of District 12, and especially not a sick eight year old like me. I wouldn't go without my parents, anyway.

"Look at the snow, Darling," I whisper, holding my hand out the window and letting the cold flakes drift onto it. "Oh, Darling, it's cold! I always forget how cold it is."

The snow down on the streets is sort of grey, like the coal dust on the window, but the snowflakes falling down from the sky are pure white, as white as Darling's nose. "Kitty, kitty, it's so pretty!" I sing out as quietly as I can. If I talk too loud, I cough hard.

After a little while, I pull my hand in and just look up at the sky, daydreaming of what's up there. I bet there's a whole kingdom of snowflakes, but they're girls and boys like me. And they love to dance and sing, and they're always happy and never sick.

"Oh, Aldera! You're going to make yourself sicker!"

I make the mistake of coughing just as Mama comes into the room, her eyebrows pulled tight together like they do when she's worried. "You get right back into those covers, do you hear?" she scolds while she pulls the window shut and latches it.

"But it's snowing, Mama! Can't I go outside just for a moment and see it?" I ask.

Mama puts her hand on my forehead and shakes her head. "You're warm again, sweetheart. You know how you are; you're frail. Maybe when you're a little stronger you can go outside." She straightens up and mutters a little to herself, but I still hear her.

"It's this coal dust," she whispers, shaking her head.

"How can it be the coal dust if I'm always in my room?" I ask. "All the coal is on the outside of the window."

"It gets in everywhere," Mama says, and she sounds irritated. I don't like it when she's upset; it makes me upset too. "Oh Dera, don't you worry. Everything's alright, and you're alright too. Just rest and you'll get better faster."

"Then maybe can I go to school?" I whisper. I'd like to meet those girls and boys I look at every day.

Her eyebrows go together again. "We'll see, Aldera. We'll see."

She didn't say no, which is better than I thought! Maybe one day I can go to school then.

"And don't you forget what's happening tonight while you sleep," she says, sounding more cheerful again.

"The magic is coming?" I ask, coughing again. She nods.

"You've been good, and I'll bet that there'll be a sweet for you in the morning from the magic." I grin as widely as I can; I've tried to be good all year. Last year the magic brought me a sugar cake, all for me! Papa told me that the magic brings coal to the naughty children of District 12. There's enough coal on the outside of the window; I don't want any for myself!

"Just rest now, Aldera. The magic will come soon enough," Mama says, petting my head gently, then she goes downstairs again.

One day I'm going to get big and strong and healthy, and then I'll go outside in the snow, and I'll go to school and have friends and do everything that everyone else does. I want to be grownup now, except the magic doesn't come for grownups.

Maybe the magic will make me better tonight, in time for the snow.

"You know, Darling," I whisper to my cat, who stretches in her sleep. "I think the magic can do anything."

She purrs just a little, and I think she means 'yes.'

One day I'll see the snow.


End file.
